St Michael's College and Finishing School for Boys
by SensitiveSassIssues
Summary: Everything tastes better with Whipped Cream and Sprinkles. Or How Ryan Ross became a Superspy. Ryden with Frerard Gabillim Peterick Frikey Jalex Joncer...you name it- it's there. Be in it for the long haul- this fic will take a while to complete.
1. Panties

Chapter One

_As Ryan walked up the drive to his house he became instantly aware that something was wrong, after all- the police don't just drop by for a cup of tea and a biscuit. He edged around the police car and walked up to his front door, dropping his school bag and rummaged in his jeans to find a key. He felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder, he spun round and using the fear that was curling around his abdomen found the adrenaline to put the man attached to the appendage in an arm lock. The man deftly released himself and grabbed Ryan's throat. They stared each other down before both stepping backwards. The man took a badge out of his pocket and Ryan's eyes widened in suprise._

"_Detective Inspector Farro, I'm here about your parents"_

Ryan Ross fell out of Bed.

He sat up on the carpet and kneaded his forehead. That was the third time in a week. There are only so many times you can relive the day your world is turned upside down before you go mental. He looked around his shabby bedroom of his low rent flat; there were empty coffee mugs and sheets of music everywhere, a giant man in the doorway, the dust was becoming visible and there were several items of girls' underwear hanging from a lamp- _There was a man in the doorway?_ The man moved into the dimly lit room and pulled Ryan off the floor and on to his feet. Ryan became suddenly conscious of the fact he was only in his boxers and cast around for some extra clothing.

"Don't bother," said Detective Inspector Farro "I was just leaving. You're coming down to HQ- there's a car waiting outside, there's no rush."It wasn't quite an order, but it certainly wasn't a request. Farro turned his back and moved through the rest of the cramped flat to the door. "Oh, and good morning." He stated as he closed the door behind him with a snap.

Ryan collapsed back onto his bed and swore. The growing feeling of unease that had been building inside him ever since he'd woken up came to the surface and he began to freak out. The last time Farro came and got him personally he'd ended up working as a plumber to the rich and famous for eight months. He swore again and untangled his long limbs from underneath him. He began to run around his apartment with a rucksack, stuffing in his favourite items. He paused in the kitchen to stuff half a bagel in his mouth. Whilst he chewed he checked the clock and almost choked on the aforementioned food when he registered 3:10am. He sighed. The CIA had never been ones for civilised timing.

It had only been days before his fifteenth birthday when they had barged into his life. Despite Ryan's best efforts they refused to leave.

He ran back into his bedroom and dragged on a pair of battered jeans and a giant hoodie, he frowned. It was not his usual style at all, it would have to do. He almost fell over himself in surprise when his mobile started to vibrate, he shoved a hand down the back of his bed where he knew it had fallen. He pulled it out triumphantly and flipped it open, It was a text. He paled when he read it and threw his phone back on the bed and ran out of the door with his bag.

'There's no rush." it read.

After jumping into the back of the blacked out car Ryan knew he was being driven to the headquarters of an unofficial branch of the CIA. Ryan had never really found out what branch or what they did- only that they seemed to have the power to send him to bizarre places and that his parents had worked there until they'd gotten themselves blown up. Ryan's parents had never been large figured in his life and the few memories he had of them weren't pleasant. He'd spent most of his time home alone as a result. He was an independent but withdrawn child that lived within his own imagination, this meant that it was no stretch for him to believe that his parents belonged to the CIA. It was only years later that the meaning and the implication began to settle in. Sitting in a cramped seat next the head of the department where they worked always brought back their first meeting and today was no different.

He'd been taken out of school and placed in the system but not trained, he was still a minor and they couldn't actually force him to do anything as he wasn't an official 'employee'. That didn't stop them blackmailing him though. He was given an ultimatum. Live in the CIA headquarters and do what we tell you, or foster care. It hadn't taken him five minutes to make a decision. This mystery department was the only connection he had left to his parents, and however much he had hated them he wasn't about to give that up.

Now Five years and three 'unofficial voluntary missions' later he was stepping out of a car and into Farro's office for the fourth time, it hadn't changed a bit. The walls felt exactly as constricting as they always had and the tall man behind the large desk was just as imposing. The man shifted slightly before standing up and taking out a gun he'd left in his pocket, he placed it on the desk and sat down again. Ryan theorised that he hadn't forgotten it was there but was reminding Ryan again who held the power in the room. Farro stretched his hands out on the desk and began to sort through some papers.

After a couple of minutes of awkward silence Farro cleared his throat.

"Ryan, you're 20 years of age now and all grown up. We let you buy your own flat with inheritance money last year and for all intents and purposes- we've left you alone. As our youngest male operative," He paused before repeating, "...as our youngest male _volunteer_ you've been very useful. You helped us infiltrate the drug dealing group within Hollywood and considering your lack of training...well frankly, you exceeded our expectations"

Ryan didn't need reminding about his last mission, for half a year he was trained as a plumber and then marketed to the stars as the most reliable person to call if their million dollar hot tubs were on the fritz, as they then _conveniently _were. He was then dispatched to 'fix' them, which involved actually fixing them as well as adding a micro bug with a microphone and camera to as many pipes as he could find. He then had to monitor them and check for 'suspicious activity'. Particularly which stars had drugs- and where they were getting them from. He hadn't picked up anything for weeks until a breakthrough moment where he almost took out the main drug supplier with a toolbox he was swinging from one hand as he walked down the road. Farro put a stop to the reminiscing by saying the exact words Ryan had been dreading to hear.

"I'm sorry to inform you that we need you again. You're the only one we can use for this mission; it's only a fairly basic surveillance op. You know the deal, find out what you can and report to us. We'll do all the hard work. I'd much rather use someone else and leave you to your life- god knows we've managed to make it a living hell- but as I said, you're the only one we can use."

Ryan used to think Farro might be a half decent guy, but after years of the same 'I'm ever so sorry but we thought you'd enjoy some mortal peril, please forgive us it won't be that bad' routine he'd given up trying to find a nice thought for the man.

"It's because of your age you see, it's a placement within a school. We'd send an older operative and have them cover as a teacher- but this school is very particular about its teachers. There are only ten and all of them are very well known and some are old boys of the school."

Ryan raised an eyebrow, he didn't like where this was headed. He'd taken his education into his own hands after he _dropped out_ of high school, he'd taught himself anything and everything that grabbed his interest. He hadn't set foot inside a school building for over half a decade and he wasn't about to go back. That was if he had any say in the matter- which he probably didn't. Also- what kind of a school only had ten teachers? As if he was reading his mind Farro carried on.

"St Michael's is a British style private college or finishing school for boys aged 17-21. This is why you're an ideal person to send. There are four years within the school, 17-18 or 'Lower 1st', 18-19 or 'Upper 1st, and so on- with the year you'll be in as the last year called 'Upper 2nd' Imaginative I know." Shrugged Farro as he took in Ryan's disbelieving expression. "I don't own the school kid, it's not my system. It's owned by a Mr Gaskarth and a Mr Urie."

Farro slid several pictures of what looked like a Victorian mansion over to Ryan who flicked through them with wide eyes. The building was impressive and looked about as much like a school as Ryan looked like a spy. It was a building fit more for an English knight and his 80 Butlers than a load of students. He couldn't imagine the mess inside. Farro also handed him a floor plan. There were four floors, the top two looked like they were used for dorms and living space, the bottom floors were obviously where the classrooms were. He counted the rooms and looked up.

"There are 10 classrooms, 10 teachers- that means one teacher per classroom at all times...how many subjects are on offer? How many students are there? What kind of a place _is_ this?" Ryan was trying to do the maths in his head. It was a legal requirement that one teacher could supervise a maximum of 24 students, so that's 240 pupils- but there weren't enough beds, and a school like this would be boarding only- Farro cut off his internal babbling with a wave of his hand.

"It's not really important to the mission-but it's a college specifically for the arts, there are 160 pupils. 75 in the first year, 50 in the second, 25 in the third and a maximum of 15 in your year. They weed them out after each year, and they rarely take new entrants although many drop out. As everyone who is at the school has done their GCSEs or the American equivalent they only offer six subjects throughout the four years that most people have in common. As a student of upper second you would take three subjects. Each student in the last year also picks an optional subject that they are required to research and study themselves. Now- can I finish explaining?" Ryan nodded, remembering that the guy opposite had a licence to bring about the apocalypse if he so wished.

"Ok- so Gaskarth bought the building and Urie manages it- he organises the scholarships, salaries of the teachers and pays for the upkeep of the school. The reason we've got involved is that in the last several years the school has made regular dontations to the government, now we're not complaining as these donations average about five million British Pounds- but we are worried as to where the money is coming from and why is it coming to us? We checked the records. They charge £15,000 sterling for each year at this school, multiply that by 160 and whilst you get an impressive figure but you don't get enough to make everything add up. Which is what makes us think that Urie or Gaskarth has another business running- only we can't find it, which means if it exists it's almost certainly illegal. The CIA can't exactly be funded by illegal means. We've researched as much as we can but recently our searches are drawing blanks."

"Which is where I come in right?" sighed Ryan.

"Exactly. You see the two men both have sons at the school. Brendon Urie and Alex Gaskarth. They're both the same age as you and therefore would be in the same year, we want you to spend your last year trying to get information out of these guys and try to hunt down the missing 2.6 million."

Ryan nodded but then something Farro had said clicked slowly into place in Ryan's mind. His last year?

"Ryan, you'll be 21 at the end of the school year, we can't legally keep you any longer than that if you don't want to stay. Anyway we'd have to pay you, and we can't afford another salary. Think of it like this- before we throw you into the real world we give you an all expenses paid last year of a fabulous education with people your own age at a school for the arts. It wasn't even as hard as anticipated to get you in; they kicked out a few more than usual in the last couple of years. A boy called Brent Wilson just dropped his Upper Second place. You're a musician- you dress like a twat- you'll fit right in."

Ryan's mouth dropped open, he could play the guitar and he had always wanted to be in a band- some people had indeed said he dressed like a twat...or at least a hobo.

"How do you know..?" He spluttered.

"It's my job to know" was the spine chilling response from across the desk. Ryan breathed in and closed his eyes. This in some ways sounded too good to be true. He could set up microphones and equipment easily and a year of stellar education wouldn't hurt him. There had to be a catch.

Farro coughed and in another surreal moment he seemed to know what Ryan was thinking, he had been briefing spies for years so really it was no surprise that he knew their thought processes by now.

"The catch is...well...before I break it to you- let's see your reaction to this..." Farro clicked around on his computer. Farro and turned his screen towards him. When Ryan opened his eyes he really wished he hadn't. He looked at the screen disbelievingly; trying to work out the relevance of the images he was being shown.

"What the actual fuck does gay porn have to do with this?" He calmly enquired.

Ryan thought he saw what could have been an echo of a vindictive smile ghosting the lips of Farro.

"Well...we might just be sending you to the gayest school in the country. Which considering the number of _panties_ I counted while I was in your flat, might be a hard concept to comprehend. We've done a bit of research and Alexander Gaskarth has a boyfriend at the school and there are several other presumed couples in other years. It's an all boys school...and they _are_ all art students. I can't quite believe you didn't see this one coming." Farro allowed himself a small laugh before turning back to Ryan who looked ready to run away.

"I..." Ryan licked his lips dry nervously. He wasn't homophobic and he never had been- but he was probably the straightest person in the history of all straight people. "Can you at least turn that off?" He pleaded and gestured to the video of an athletic blonde haired blue eyed man getting blown by an equally toned and tanned brunette.

When he was at school his slim build and penchant for the arts had left him with quite a reputation, albeit a false one. Ryan hadn't touched another person's dick, let alone _done something_ with one. He shuddered at the idea.

"Oohhhhh is baby Ryro put off by a little bit of boy love?" A high pitched voice behind him caused Ryan to spin round in his chair. Standing by the door was the best reason for being straight that Ryan had ever met. Helena Williams was the person that always gave Ryan all of the details that Farro couldn't be bothered to- she also delighted in giving him a personal 'mission makeover' which always included a new wardrobe and haircut and some lessons on how to act around the people he would meet on the mission. It didn't hurt that she was absolutely stunning with fire truck red hair and lipstick to match. She was dressed head to toe in black. Black jumpsuit, black boots even black nails.

Farro rolled his eyes and turned the screen back towards him. Ryan knew he couldn't exactly turn down this job and Farro knew the prospect of a college for the arts where music was a core subject was going to be enough to convince him.

"Ry pleeeasssee take the mission!" Helena squealed and crushed Ryan into a hug. "I want to give you an art student emo makeover and I reckon I could give you the perfect haircut-oh and of course I'll have to teach you about eyeliner and Oh and I have to tell you everything about the school!" Ryan giggled with her and turned to Farro.

"This might be the least sensible thing I've ever said- but...How bad can it be? I'll take it...but then I'm out of here. One more year- but next September I'm gone." Ryan tried to look Farro in the eyes with little success. Farro gave a small nod and Helena dragged him out of the room and into a nearby lift. She pressed the floor number and started bouncing up and down.

"This is the most short notice makeover I've ever done- you leave tomorrow lunch time! Not that I mind, you're my favourite to work with. You have nice cheekbones. We'll have to lose the hipster look though...not brooding enough" Ryan rolled his eyes as Helena tugged on his muddy brown hair. Helena just grinned at him. The small ruby embedded in the corner of one of her incisors sparkled in the artificial light.

* * *

><p>AN:

So Hi there oh lovely people of FF! This is primarily for Amanda. *waves* HI AMANDA - but please R 'n' R any feedback welcome.  
>I hope you enjoy your stay with us at St Michael's...I know Ryan will! xo<p> 


	2. Ties

Chapter Two

Ryan looked up at the towering building in front of him and tried to remember exactly why he'd agreed to this. It had seemed like such a brilliant idea yesterday. Not that he'd had much of a say in whether he came or not. He was standing at the grand entrance to 'St Michael's finishing School and College for Boys' and really wished he wasn't. The two huge wooden double doors in front of him were over two meters tall and summed up Ryan's idea of the school perfectly. You have to work hard to get in, you'll be perfectly safe while you're here...but we can keep you out just as turned around and looked down the long drive and watched his chauffer driven car, and his only connection to the outside world, drive round the corner. He picked at his shirt, he'd been force dressed by Helena that morning.

"Ryan?" said a voice from behind him. He turned around again to see one of the large doors was open. A man of medium height and build was holding the giant door with some form of hidden muscle. He beckoned Ryan inside.

"Your bags will be sent to your room, don't worry. Now- do come into my office." Ryan put down one of three large suitcases that contained enough clothes to last him the rest of his life and followed the man inside. They turned into an alcove that had two chairs either side of a door. One of the chairs was occupied by a boy of about 17 who was holding a bloody nose. The man shook his head and opened the door.

"I'll be back to talk to you in a bit Benji." he said happily walking into the room. The boy nodded after him and looked Ryan up and down as he passed. He stepped into an office that was completely opposite to Farro's. It was all Burgundy leather chairs and bookcases. There was a decanter and a bottle of brandy on a small coffee table. Ryan looked around and half expected the man, who he now realised was the headmaster, to produce a pipe and start to regale him with stories of the war.

"Sit down Ryan, I'll be over in a second" said the authoritative man, gesturing to a corner of the office.

Ryan sat on one of the armchairs and watched as the headmaster strode over to his large desk and picked up a file. As he walked back towards him Ryan realised that the man was only five or so years older than him. He hadn't noticed he was so young- the attitude he put across was one of someone double his age. Ryan caught sight of a sign on the desk he'd missed earlier. 'Patrick Stump- Headmaster of the Year' He cast his mind back to yesterday when he'd been sitting in a chair having his hair cut by Helena and tried to remember if she'd mentioned a Patrick when she was bombarding him with information about the school.

"Patrick is the Headmaster of St Michaels's and also the Wing supervisor for the students in their last year. So you'll see him a lot. He's the youngest Headmaster the school has ever had, he left, did a degree in Philosophy and came straight back when he discovered there was a vacancy. He encourages all of the boys to call him Patrick. Mystery sexuality, one of everyone's favourite questions to ask him. I know it's not part of the mission- but _do_ find out. Oh...and...what are your views on hair dye?"

Ryan chuckled as he remembered her description of the man in front of him. Patrick raised an eyebrow and Ryan shook his head.

"Long story" he explained. Patrick smiled and sat down next to him. He spread out the file and turned to Ryan.

"Welcome to St Michaels! I'm Patrick, I'm sure we'll be the best of friends! While you're here I hope you'll join the bridge club! " It was a few seconds before he cracked up, giggling like a girl. He was wiping tears from his eyes as he faced a scared looking Ryan.

"Sorry, Simple pleasures," He rubbed his face with his hands and sat up straighter. "Anyway- I'm Patrick, You're Ryan. I hope you'll enjoy your time here at Mike's and that you'll get on with all of the other boys. I'm sure you will. You look like a good kid." He glanced down at the sheets of paper and continued. Ryan did a double take and re-evaluated Patrick. He could see why he was popular with the students; he clearly had a sense of humour.

"From your file I see you're taking Music, English and Art with Electronics as your Optional. An interesting and nice choice. You have the same timetable as two other boys in your year and one of them will show you round today and help you settle in."

Helena had told Ryan about the subjects he was taking and he agreed with her that they'd picked the right choices for him. Electronics was his cover for the amount of equipment he had to bring in for all of the surveillance. He remembered the look on her face when she explained that, for a year, she was officially his mother and that Farro was his father. Ryan had to drop the surname of Ross and become Ryan Farro. Patrick poked him and thrust a plastic bag into his hands.

"I've got a couple of things to give you- a house tie and a key to your room; you'll share with someone else in your house. There aren't enough rooms in the actual building of Mike's for all of the years so Upper 2nd live in a separate building on campus. As I'm sure you know- there are five buildings that make up Mikes. The main building that we're in now that has the English, Maths and French and classrooms in it, as well as my office. The Art block that is one large art studio and combined gallery, The Drama studio and theatre which has Music classrooms upstairs, the lecture hall and finally U2 block where you'll be staying that has a common room, a small library and a kitchen as well as eight rooms upstairs, each with two beds."

Ryan nodded and mentally reminded himself to tell Helena that all her information was accurate so far. There was a light knock on the door and it opened to admit a guy about Ryan's age. Ryan took in his appearance; he could see black converses that bled seamlessly into black skinny jeans. A belt buckle shaped like a guitar protruded slightly from underneath a black button down shirt that hugged his chest. He was wearing skeleton hand warmers and his long fingers rested lightly at his sides. His hair was cropped short apart from a fringe that would have covered one eye had it not been tucked behind one ear. The guy was certainly attractive, thought Ryan. Helena had been encouraging him to think like a girl all of yesterday and he could see the appeal of the slim hips and legs that they guy in front of him had. Frank waved and bit his lip, Ryan noticed a lip ring.

"Hey Frank" Said Patrick from next to Ryan, Frank walked over to them and executed a complex handshake with the headmaster that involved a lot of fingers before dragging Ryan upright. "Be nice to the new kid Frank, fill him in for me and I'll see y'all later" Patrick added, affecting a Texas twang.

"I'll be nice Patrick, there's only so much I can do when everyone else is in lessons you know." Frank replied and took Ryan by the hand. He snatched the plastic bag from him and dug around with a look of concentration on his face. He pulled out a green tie triumphantly. "NO WAY! You put him in Omega? Brendon is going to be pissed!" Frank said with delight. Patrick shrugged and pushed Ryan and Frank towards the door.

"Get out, both of you. I'll see you at the U2 meeting later." He shut the door behind them. The minute he'd gone Frank was bouncing up and down, Ryan thought he and Helena would make a good couple, if Frank wasn't gay- which statistically- he probably was.

"Wait 'til I tell the guys! Oh this is going to be soooo entertaining when Brendon finds out!" Ryan had absolutely no idea what was going on and he put an arm out to stop Frank bouncing.

"Frank, dude? Little help?" Frank turned and faced him. "Only...I uhh...have no idea what the hell you're on about."

Frank smiled, "Sorry, we haven't had a new kid in two years, the whole year is kind of excited to know what you're like- me included," He stuck out a hand. "Frank Iero, resident midget with attitude, at your service." He did a mock bow. Ryan took his hand and shook it sombrely; he thought he was going to get on with Frank.

"Ryan Farro, new kid and all round loser." He replied. Frank giggled and pulled him into his second hug of the day. Very feminine, Ryan noted.

"Ok Ry, here's the deal. I could show you round the school which you'll see tomorrow anyway- or we could go over to our dorms and sit in the common room while I tell you everything there is to know about people in our year, and social etiquette in general, catch my drift?"

Ryan nodded, He'd seen pictures of all of the rooms anyway- what he really needed was the inside information on the students that only Frank could give him. Frank grabbed his hand again and led him outside, they passed a couple of classrooms with small classes inside. Ryan thought he saw an English class and a French class- although Frank was dragging him past them so fast that they may as well have been lessons on how to butter a piece of toast. Mmm...toast. Ryan hadn't eaten since yesterday's 3am half bagel and everything was reminding him of food.

The grounds that Ryan could see were dotted with oak trees and the grass was scattered with flowers like confetti. Frank walked backwards down the gravel path all the while talking to Ryan about how good the food was. Apparently the kitchen was always fully stocked and you could just eat what you want provided you try to eat three meals a day that were sort of healthy. By the time they reached the building that Ryan was going to call home for the next year he knew the exact recipe for a tuna and whipped cream sandwich and what to avoid if you didn't want your ass kicked by people who are protective of their food.

The building was just like a miniature replica of the main mansion, red brick with large wooden doors. When Ryan stepped inside he stepped straight into the common room, there were clusters of burgundy leather sofas and armchairs around a couple of little tables. There was a fireplace on one wall and floor to ceiling books on another, at the back of the room a large staircase rose to the floor above, it twisted and turned forming a balcony over the room before disappearing above the ceiling to what Ryan supposed was where the bedrooms were. To one side of the room was a set of double doors that Frank led him through. They came into a dining room with a long table in the centre and another small door off to the side, this door lead to the kitchen which it transpired was teenager's dream. Four coffee machines, cupboards full of the four main food groups; sugar, salt, fat and caffeine. Frank grabbed a bag of crisps, chucked Ryan a chocolate muffin, and they went back out to the common room.

"So." Said Frank as they collapsed on a sofa by the fireplace. "Welcome to the Upper 2nd wing of the school, the best place- obviously. This is where our year eat, sleep, party, study, crash and fuck." Ryan winced at the last word and Frank sat bolt upright. "Well shit, I forgot to ask you- are you gay, straight, bi, omni or pansexual? Or something we haven't had at this school yet?" Frank looked at Ryan with such a grave expression that Ry suspected his very future depended on this answer. He paused before answering.

Helena had given him one last piece of advice before he'd left,

"Proclaim you are straight as much as possible- St Michael's boys will love a challenge and if you want to befriend people to make the mission easier, let them take you on as their new project." He'd tried to tell her that he _was_ straight anyway, so it was immaterial. She's said that once she was through styling him he'd look in the mirror and he'd be so hot he'd be questioning even his own sexuality. There was no reasoning with Helena. Ryan had avoided mirrors all day and still had no idea what she'd done to him.

"Very straight." He told Frank, looking him in the eye with as much sincerity as he could manage. Frank raised his eyebrows in shock.

"Really? Huh...my gaydar is clearly malfunctioning." Frank zoned out and stared at Ryan for a minute. "But you're straight? The guys are going to _love_ you" Frank shook his head. "Ok- so straight guy, this is how the cliques work here. There are thirteen people in our year now, you included. You can pretty much split us into two groups, the Band crew and the Popular guys...and Bill. The Band crew are Me, Gerard, Mikey, Bob, Ray and Spencer. We're all in the school band which is imaginatively called The Band. Brendon hangs around with us sometimes but not much. He generally stays with the popular crowd."

Ryan made a face, his experience with anyone popular had not been good. He was always the weird kid in the corner. Frank laughed and grimaced.

"Yeah, the popular guys are Alex, Gabe, Brendon, Jack and Pete, they think they run the school. Finally there's William Beckett aka Bill... He's normally found in the Art block, high. High either on weed, or on a ladder. He needs the ladder for his most recent art project inspired by The Beatles which features a large wire tree and a lot of orange paint. That guy is in a clique of his own." Frank giggled. The Beatles? Ryan raised an eyebrow. Maybe this Bill guy didn't sound too bad after all.

"Is there anyone I need to uh...look out for?" Ryan asked.

"Not really- All of the Band crew are really cool, watch out for Bob though. He'll hit you if you mention cameras or Paninis. Most of the popular crowd are okay, Alex is scum though. Typical spoilt rich kid. Brendon Urie is kind of an enigma, don't even try."

That was the last thing Ryan wanted to hear. He'd been hoping that either Alex or Brendon would be one of the people he'd naturally talk to and that it would be easy to befriend them and get information. Maybe that had been a bit too much to hope for. Although, this was only from Frank's point of view. It could be that Brendon was a perfectly normal person and he'd just mortally offended Frank in another life.

"An enigma?" He asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, Brendon isn't an easy person to figure out, he's kind of friends with everyone and no one. He's got a lot of power from his father but he doesn't need it. He's amazing at music and he's all dramatic and confident. If he's pissed off he can be a bit of a dick, but he's a nice enough guy. He switches friendship groups a lot." Frank had a guarded look on his face that made Ryan think he wasn't telling him the whole truth.

"Frank...what aren't you telling me?" said Ryan, poking Frank in the ribs. Frank swatted his hand away and had the good grace to look guilty.

"To tell you the truth? Brendon is probably going to hate you for life." The bottom dropped out of Ryan's stomach.

"What have I done? I haven't even met the guy yet!" Ryan complained. Frank shook his head and pulled out Ryan's green house tie.

"There are four houses here at St Micheal's, Omega, Sigma, Theta and Delta. They're all really ancient and some maths teacher came up with the idea like a thousand years ago. There used to be inter house competitions and stuff, but now the only use for them is deciding who rooms together. You always share with someone in your house." Frank pulled at his Yellow tie with disgust. "I'm in Sigma house with Spencer and Ray- I share with Spencer, we all thought you'd be put in Sigma with us and that you'd share with Ray because there are only three of us. I'd forgotten there were only three in Omega as well."

Ryan nodded, this made sense so far. Helena had mentioned the houses. Each bedroom had two single beds, there were eight rooms in U2 block therefore 16 beds which divided into a max of four people in each house. He still had no idea how this affected his non existent relationship with Brendon.

"Let me break it down for you" Frank said. "I room with Spencer Smith, Ray Toro has his own room because he's a left over, Jack Barakat shares with Pete Wentz as they're the only two in Delta. There are four people in Theta; Gerard Way who shares with Bob Bryar and Mikey Way who shares with William Beckett. In Omega there's Alex Gaskarth who rooms with Gabe Saporta. That leaves Brendon Urie, who up until now has never shared anything in his life."

Ryan looked helplessly at Frank who shrugged.

"It wasn't your choice, Patrick decides what houses people go into. You'll either get on really well, or he'll spend every waking moment making your life miserable. Brendon doesn't share well and he's had his own room for over two years so I'm betting on the latter. You're lucky we've all only been moved into U2 for a week- no one's had a chance to really personalise their rooms yet."

Ryan nodded and then grimaced. "How am I supposed to break it to him that he's rooming with the new guy for a year?"

Frank sighed and looked at his watch. "Upper 2nd finish lessons after lunch as we only take three subjects. We get three hours in the evening to work on our Optional. Everyone normally eats lunch over in the main school- so I reckon as it's about 3pm...Everyone will be back soon to start on their optionals, I'll have to abandon you and head over to the gym. Brendon will find out soon enough when he goes upstairs and sees your name has been added to the door and your twelve thousand bags have been shoved in his room. Oh, and Patrick called a win meeting after lunch today anyway- he wants to introduce you."

Ryan nodded again and thought back to the days of standing in front of a class in middle school and saying his name and his favourite colour to about 30 other people. In this tightly knit community who had known each other for years it was probably going to be a little bit different.

There was a growing roar from behind the two large wooden doors at the entrance and suddenly they burst open to admit hyper students. Ryan wanted to melt into the sofa as 11 pairs of eyes found the new kid.

* * *

><p>Wrote this whilst listening to The Young Veins. Forever a Ryan Ross fangirl. R&amp;R!<p> 


	3. Boobs

Chapter Three

Another pair of feet echoed on the marble floor and Patrick swept into the common room.

"Ah, you're all here. Magical. Everybody find a seat and I'll introduce you to our new student, Frank- would you and Ryan like to come and stand with me please?"

Ryan wouldn't like to, thank you very much, but Frank hauled him upright and dragged him over to Patrick. Ryan watched as all of the boys shoved each other around and collapsed on chairs, many of them on top of each other. Patrick coughed tolerantly and once everyone was settled he began the introductions.

"Right, this is Ryan Farro." He explained, gesturing to the boy beside him. "He's joined us this year because his family moved away from his old school some years ago and have decided that he needed to further his education before he steps out into the big wide world. He's taking Art, Music and English so he has the same timetable as Frank and Gerard which is why Frank was showing him round today. He's taking Electronics as his optional which is a first for the school, it'll look good on the records. Now, Frank probably knows him best already, so I'll pass over, I need a sandwich. Frank?"

Patrick turned around and walked out of the common room and towards the kitchen. Frank stepped forwards and waved at a group of guys who were tangled up on an armchair and part of a sofa. A couple of them that could move their arms waved back.

"Hey guys," He said casually. "This is Ryan, new guy. Nothing very interesting about him. Oh, except the fact he's straight." There were a couple of very girly squeals of delight and several snorts of disbelief.

"With that hair? There is No way." Laughed a skinny, lanky guy from the group that had waved to Frank. Frank walked over to the group and slapped him. Ryan cursed Helena silently. He needed to get to a mirror, and fast.

"Mikey, if he says he's straight- he's straight." Frank frowned at Mikey until a look of realisation broke over his face.

"Oh, of course- straight, right..Boobs and shit." He nodded knowingly.

Ryan who had been watching closely realised that Helena had been right. The looks that all of them were sharing plainly said they were conspiring against him. Just as Ryan was getting ready to run out of there, Patrick came back into the room holding a very large peanut butter sandwich.

"Whadimiss?" He mumbled around a mouthful of heaven. The tension diffused instantly and laughter broke out among the masses.

"Nothing!" was the unanimous reply. Patrick rolled his eyes.

"I'll get it out of one of you, just you wait," He swallowed. "Now, everyone introduce yourselves. Frank go and sit down, stop hitting Mikey. Alex- you start." Frank went and sat down. On top of his friends. A tall slim guy with a hairstyle that clearly needed a lot of hairspray stood up from where he was sharing an armchair with a boy who, Ryan reasoned, must be his boyfriend. Alex was wearing a pink shirt and a green tie, like Frank he was wearing skinny jeans, as were most of the boys. Ryan was starting to notice a theme.

"I'm Alexander Gaskarth, My great Grandfather who was British bought the mansion. I sing and play guitar, I like polo and-." He was cut off by Frank.

"-have more money than sense. Seriously Fagskarth, could you sound more up yourself?" Frank highfived the guy he was sitting on top of. Alex flipped him off and continued. "I expect you'll want to hang out with me and my friends instead of the emos in the corner," A shoe flew though the air from Frank's friend's direction and narrowly missed Alex's head. He frowned but continued. "I'm going out with Jack, so I know I'm irresistible- but hands off, my Optional is Business and like my father- I hope to inherit the rights of ownership of this building."

Alex sat down. Ryan's heart sank, it had become apparent almost immediately that Alex was far too popular, preoccupied and uninterested to know anything about the way the school was run. There would be no point in trying to get him to talk. This meant that his only possible source of information was Brendon- who was probably going to hate him. The person Frank was sitting on pushed him off and stood up. He and Frank were wearing almost identical clothes, only this guy was wearing a blue tie. He was taller than Frank but he was of the same build, slim with elegant limbs. He had black bangs that covered most of his face. He had smudges of charcoal up his arms that seemed to be a permanent part of him. He flicked his hair out of his eyes and shot a look of contempt at Alex.

"Like he'd ever _want_ to go out with you Gaskarth. I'm Gerard Way, we have the same timetable- so you already know what subjects I do. My Optional is Animation and I'm currently working on a cartoon about a Monkey and Breakfast. I listen to _real_ music," He shot another look at Alex. "and I.."

"Am the Sassiest bitch ever and gay as the fourth of July" finished a hench blonde guy from the pile of people Gerard had just left. Gerard put on his best shocked face.

"I am a heterosexual thank you very much!" He flicked out a wrist and cocked his hips to make a point before flouncing back to the sofa. The blonde dude laughed before looking at Ryan.

"I'm currently being crushed by Mikey- otherwise I'd get up. I'm Bob Bryar, my Optional is Karate. I play the drums. By the way, Gerard neglected to mention the fact he sings. Loudly. You have been warned," Ryan smiled. Bob poked a guy who was sitting nearby with his foot. He looked up. "Toro- introduce ton self si vous plait."

'Toro' put down the book he'd been reading and looked up. "I'm Ray Toro, also known as Poofball and Monsieur le Fro. Due to the hair. My optional is Languages- if anyone ever needs language help they can come to me. "If they give me a cupcake and promise not to touch my hair." Ryan laughed and looked at the hair- it was a fluffy ginger afro and now he'd been told he couldn't, he really wanted to touch it. "Don't even think about it new kid." Said Ray.

"Don't be a dick Ray," said the only person in the room with a half beard of stubble. He was sitting by the fire with his feet on a coffee table, he was giving off an aura of calm, cool and collectedness. "I'm Spencer Smith, I'm in your Art class- I'm the hub of all gossip and I weld. My Optional is Woodwork and I play drums like Bob." He waved briefly.

"You're a dick Spencer" was Ray's articulate and imaginative reply. Mikey who was still sitting on Bob groaned and threw his other shoe, the first was still over by Alex, at Ray's 'Fro.

"Can it guys, seriously. Toro, give me my shoe back before your hair eats it,"

Ryan giggled and Mikey raised a slim eyebrow in his direction. "Yeah, you're totally straight. I'm Mikey Way- Gerard also neglected to mention_ my_ existence, I'm his brother. I play Bass. My Optional is Mythology- because unicorns fucking exist." Ryan looked around, no one else find that weird? No? Ok then...

"Mikey, not everyone in here appreciates your weirdness. Take it elsewhere. Like a different state," A tanned, muscular guy who was lounging on a sofa said derisively. "Hey Ryan, I'm Pete- I take English, Maths and Drama. My Optional is my Bass playing, I'm doing my Diploma. If you need anything don't hesitate to ask." Pete grinned showing a brilliant white smile. He was wearing a tight white shirt and a red tie.

"Jesus Pete, he hasn't been here half a day and you're already hitting on him? I knew you lacked standards- but that is ridiculous."

Out of the shadows by the bookcase Ryan watched the silhouette of a slim, well built individual move into the light. He had a confident swagger to his step that accentuated hips that any woman would have been jealous of. He moved further into the room and Ryan's eyes travelled up slim legs that were swathed in tight black denim to a chest that was covered in a loose, white shirt that hung perfectly on his body. The sleeves were rolled up to reveal toned arms with perfect hands and piano player's fingers.

"I'm Brendon Urie, and if you're the owner of the three ridiculously large bags in my room- I don't like you." His voice was beyond sultry, it was velvet soft and the intonation suggested dark nights and smooth skin. Ryan looked up and unwillingly into his eyes; they were hypnotic, a deep coffee with tiny flecks of gold that caused his eyes to flash dangerously in the dimly lit room. His brown hair fell in disorganised perfection around his angular cheekbones and-

Ryan mentally slapped himself. It was the gay atmosphere he decided, messing with his head.

"Um...hi." Replied Ryan once he thought he could trust his voice not to crack. Brendon just rolled his eyes and sashayed over to the staircase. He walked slowly and it took all of Ryan's will power not to watch him go. After he'd disappeared out of sight Ryan became aware of the heavy silence in the room. Spencer coughed before standing up and turning to the remaining occupants of the room. Ryan became vaguely aware of Alex mouthing 'Awkward' to the rest of the students.

"Jack, Gabe and Bill- I'm sure you can introduce yourselves later, right?" Spencer said pointedly. The remaining boys got up, Jack took Alex with him and they disappeared upstairs. The casually dressed figure with shutter shades that could only be Gabe mentioned that he and Pete had to do some work for Drama and they exited the building. William got slowly to his feet and untangled his long limbs. He was wearing a tight green v-neck over a white shirt and his brown mousy hair almost passed his shoulders. He nodded to Ryan before walking out of the doors after them.

"Bob, Ray- you couldn't get me some coffee could you? Actually I'll come with you" said Mikey hurriedly and they too disappeared. Mikey gave a bob of his head to Spencer before walking through the double doors. That left Ryan, Gerard, Frank and Spencer. Gerard looked at Spencer for a couple of seconds before nodding slightly; Gerard got to his feet and dragged Spencer out of the door muttering about a couple of sketches he wanted him to see. Ryan realised he was still standing facing the stairs when Frank pulled him into an armchair by the fire.

"Well shit. Sorry bro. Brendon...ummm...everyone else seemed to..." Frank bit his lip when he saw Ryan's expression. "Seriously man, don't beat yourself up about it. You can ask Patrick to move you but he probably won't...he has this thing about us all working together in harmony or some such shit." He snorted and stood up. "I'm always here and Spencer seems to be fighting your corner. I know Gee likes you and Bob will defend anyone who laughs at his jokes so I think you'll be ok. Give it a week- you'll fit in fine."

Ryan looked at him disbelievingly and Frank rolled his eyes.

"Trust me, I'm a great judge of character. Now- Brendon's probably burning all your clothes, let's go and help." Frank dragged him upright and over to the stairs. They stopped at the first step and Frank turned to him with a serious expression, "I'm in the dorm opposite you- so just run over if Brendon tries to stab you in the night." Ryan laughed nervously and Frank rolled his eyes.

"Come on pretty boy- let's go and see if Brendon's melted your laptop yet."

Ryan was getting seriously pissed off with all the comments about his appearance and he wanted to get to a mirror as fast as possible. He followed Frank up the winding staircase and into a wide corridor. There were four doors on either side and a set of double doors at the far end.

"The library and computer suite are through those doors," commented Frank- gesturing to the back of the long passage. They walked about half way down the corridor before Frank stopped and turned to face one of the doors at the left side. Ryan noticed that each door had two plaques in the middle and a lock, each plaque had the name of one of the occupants of the room. The door in front of them held the names Brendon Urie and Ryan Farro. Frank, who had brought the plastic bag with them, dug around to find a key. He passed it to Ryan with a flourish.

"Your door, you open it. I'll stand back."

Ryan tensed up briefly, and wondered if Brendon really did have the resources to burn his stuff. He doubted it and turned the key. The door swung open to reveal a good sized and thankfully empty room with twin beds, one of which was unmade and covered in sheets of music. There were bedside tables next to each bed and a small desk in one corner. The walls on Brendon's side of the room were already covered in posters of a lot of artists Ryan recognised. In all fairness, that could have been his side of the room. Ryan noticed that the mess stopped abruptly half way over to the other bed. Brendon clearly had a thing about boundaries. The other bed had Ryan's huge cases on it, they seemed to be untouched.

Frank let out a low whistle. "Daaammmn, what is _in_ those?" He walked over to the nearest case and unzipped it. His eyes widened as he pulled out a suit jacket and five black shirts. "Armani? Seriously? Is that- Oh my god it is." Frank dropped everything he was holding and plunged a hand into the bag. He pulled out an iPad and laughed. "Duuude, they told us you got in on a scholarship, we thought you'd be some trailer trash that dropped out of schools every week."

Ryan frowned, Farro had got him in on a scholarship? For what subject? He was distracted when Frank pulled out a bag and emptied the contents of a small beauty parlour and hair salon onto the bed. Bloody Helena. Frank was laughing hysterically as he went through the products, chucking them at Ryan

"Hairspray, Hair gel, Hair clips, cleanser, moisturiser, toner, eyeliner- are you sure you're not gay?" Frank turned round with one hand on his hip and a smirk on his face. "Well, that hairstyle does look pretty high maintenance."

Ryan swore. "What the fuck has Helena done to me?" he moaned, and collapsed on the bed. Frank jumped on top of him, his eyes as large as the tub of body lotion next to him.

"You mean you haven't looked in a mirror today?" he asked incredulously.

"Not since my supposed best friend attacked my face and hair with girl." Ryan replied. Frank leapt off him and grabbed his hand for the fifth time that day.

"Ray has a mirror covering one wall, come on." Frank dragged him out of the room muttering. Ryan caught things like 'clearly doesn't know' and 'oblivious to his hotness'. Frank knocked loudly on a door near the library. Ray Toro opened it with a smile.

"Need the mirror already?" he asked as Frank swept past him. "I've only just finished unpacking..." Ryan looked at the 'Fro apologetically before a bundle of hyper midget jumped on him.

"Ray shut the door, Ryan close your eyes. Oooh you're so much fun already!" He covered Ryan's eyes with his hands and Ryan stumbled blindly further into the room. After a bit of steering Frank sighed. "You're going to realise how hot you are and stop hanging out with me, you'll start to use your powers for evil, like Pete." Ryan kicked some air where Frank's leg might have been and Frank giggled. "I take it back, but dude, if you don't want every single guy in this place to be clamouring for a space in your bed- you need to get ugly."

Frank slowly let his hands fall from Ryan's face and Ryan saw, for the first time, what Helena had done to him.

"Oh," He said, touching his hair and face. "This is different."

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><p>Couldn't name this chapter anything other. Gotta love Mikey. :') NOW PRESS THAT SEXY REVIEW BUTTON.<p> 


	4. Romeo

Chapter Four

The figure in front of Ryan in the mirror was unlike any reflection of himself he's ever seen before. It was hard to take in all at once. Helena had dressed him in casual clothes as they knew he wouldn't have any lessons that day and she'd cut his hair, but that was all he had known about the transformation. His slim legs had been stuffed into probably the tightest black skinny jeans imaginable and even though Ryan had been used to wearing skinny jeans before, he thought that this pair were probably meant for Helena's eight year old sister. She'd furnished him with the obligatory converses; he'd thought he'd spotted a couple of other pairs in his bags. The ones he had on now were black. His top was plain, tight and white. He'd also been forced into a green hoodie before he'd left. The overall effect was good, he had to admit.

His normally neat, slightly wavy brown hair had been cut into a sloppy side fringe and straightened. Somehow Helena had managed to force him into a bandana. He winced. With the eyeliner and the black nail varnish- he looked incredibly gay.

"So?" Squealed Frank, practically swinging off Ryan's arm. Ryan turned to the excited boy next to him.

"I...think my friend has a lot of explaining to do." He grimaced at the reflection, it grimaced back. He thought he could look at this two ways. One, at least convincing people that they were turning him gay wasn't going to be too hard- he was practically oozing camp out of every pore already. He even smelled slightly flowery. Two, maybe he'd be able to find some girls to charm with his 'gay vibe'.

"Ryan, I have to admit that for a guy who claims to be straight- you certainly don't look it." Ray appeared in Ryan's field of view as he moved in front of the mirror shaking his head. Frank laughed,

"Dude, even if he does claim to be straight, if he stays here for more than a week he won't be." Frank looked at Ryan. "The other guys would probably kill me if they found out that I'd told you, but they enjoy a challenge and currently you're it. You're going to have to get something to beat them off with."

Ryan didn't need reminding that the occupants of this wing's favourite game was 'pin the rainbow on the straight guy' but having Frank confirm it so bluntly brought home just how much trouble he was probably in. His worried thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Ray strolled over and let in a harassed looking Gerard. He stumbled in through the door and sat down on Ray's bed, breathing as though he'd run up twelve flights of stairs.

"They're already looking for Ryan" He said n between breaths, "They've been through all of my art stuff and I'm pretty sure Alex is planning a code blue already" He looked sympathetically at Ryan. The meaning of those words was lost on Ryan but both Frank and Ray sucked in a breath and exchanged worried glances.

"Already?" Frank raised an eyebrow and Gerard nodded.

"I spoke to Jack whilst Alex was distracted and he said that Alex was going to ring his dad and ask for permission to move it to tomorrow night." Gerard shot another loaded look at Ryan.

He got enough cryptic language at the CIA didn't need any more right now, Ryan coughed pointedly. Frank turned and sighed.

"Code blue is one of the worst kind of St M's party. Named for the excessive consumption of Blue Curacao and WKD."

Gerard nodded. "A code blue is usually held about a month after we get back, once the equivalent of freshers week is over -but since you're here..." He trailed off.

Ryan was stuck between awe that a college had rankings of parties, colour coded no less, and grim understanding of the motive behind Alex's thinking. Basically everyone thought that the best way to gay him up would be to get him incredibly drunk. Unluckily for them, Ryan hadn't yet met a person he couldn't drink under the table. As Frank and Ray muttered to Gerard he was formulating a plan of his own, if he could get Alex or Brendon drunk enough...maybe even if he couldn't get them to tell him outright their fathers were up to he might be able to get some blackmail material.

He decided to play innocent and tugged on Frank's shirt and stared at him wide eyed. "Just what sort of party is this going to be?" He asked timidly, hoping Frank would buy it.

Frank laughed. "The kind that has you puking for a week, moaning for a month and blushing for a year."

"Oh." Ryan said and faked an innocent 'deer in the headlights' look. Frank turned and put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's ok- you'll get used to it, little innocent Ryan." Frank ruffled his hair affectionately.

Ray laughed and stood up. "Ok guys, let's go and help Ry finish un-packing." Frank jumped up from his spot on the bed, changing attitude completely, and dragged Ray out of the room with a rushed 'wait until you see the Armani'. Ryan made to follow them but Gerard grabbed his wrist in an uncharacteristically masculine movement. The dark and frankly, quite intimidating youth pulled him closer and whispered in his ear.

"There's no way you're as innocent as you look Farro, you have 'secret' written all over you. You might be fooling Frank and everybody else in this place- but you're not fooling me." Ryan shuddered. Gerard released him and stepped back. He cocked his head and smirked.

"Huh, you're cute when you're scared." He then flounced out of the room. Normality restored. Ryan shook himself. Gerard was clearly a lot more perceptive than a lot of the boys at St M's. He was going to have to be a lot more careful around him. An inhuman squeal from across the corridor announced Gerard's discovery of the Westwood tuxedo and Ryan decided he should probably get over there before he discovered the box of Rolex watches.

It took Ray and Frank combined to pull Gerard out of Ryan's room thirty minutes later. He was ecstatic to find out that Ryan wasn't good with eyeliner and makeup in general. It gave him someone to teach and someone to show off his 'artistic talent' to. He was still muttering about feathering and blending when they shoved him into one of the squashy armchairs by the now lit fire in the common room.

"So Ry, talk to me. Which group are you going to join?" Asked Ray, poking Ryan onto a sofa and sitting next to him. Ryan assumed he meant the two groups of 'Popular' and 'Band' that this school had going on.

"I wasn't aware I actually had to choose" He replied, frowning. Gerard snorted from his collapsed position.

"You don't have to- but it will happen. You'll fall into one of the groups whether you like it or not. Ray just wants to know if he can force you to be a groupie for the band." Gerard leant forward and stage whispered "Ray is definitely after your ass Farro." Ray smacked him.

"I'm straight- stop trying to convince Ryan otherwise." Ray poked Frank. "You stop encouraging him."

Ryan did a double take. He thought being straight was like, some big thing here. Frank caught his confused face and laughed.

"Ray will continually tell you he's straight. Which he is- if being straight entitles you to have an unhealthy obsession with hair products and musicals." At that moment, before Ray could rip Frank limb from limb Bob appeared round the corner. Ray sprang back into his seat, flicked his hair and crossed his legs. Gerard shot Ryan a look and Ryan smirked behind his hand.

To think he used to be thought of as the arty faggot when he was at school, he had nothing on these guys.

Bob cleared his throat and looked around at the scene in front of him. Ryan and Gerard giggling quietly, Ray acting like a bitchy princess and Frank eyeing up his Fro for pouncing on.

"Well, when we're all done being incredibly gay," He said, causing everyone to straighten up in a half hearted attempt to look manly. "In honour of Ryan's arrival, Spencer's cooked." These seemed to be magic words and no sooner that the words left Bobs mouth than Ryan was dragged upright and into the dining room where places had been set for everyone and there was a huge pile of steaming food on each plate.

Ryan eyed it warily. On closer inspection it looked just like plain pasta. Bob put a hand on his shoulder. "This is just the base, wait for the toppings." Ryan sat himself between Gerard and Bob and watched, puzzled, as the room slowly filled up as the news of Spencer's cooking reached the ears of everyone in the dorm. Jack practically ran in, closely followed by Alex. Brendon sauntered in and sat down opposite Ryan, who looked away. The last to join them was Bill. Who sort of drifted into the room. All thirteen of them, minus Spencer who was in the kitchen, began to fidget in their seats.

Gerard turned to Ryan, "We're normally a lot less formal about meals, but you haven't had Spencer supreme."

On cue Spencer burst through the doors carrying about ten bowls, balancing them all on his arms like a waiter. He placed them in front of people at regular intervals along the table. He then stood at the head of the table.

"Today, in honour of the newest member of Upper Second, we are eating a 'Ten tonne Spencer supreme'. As per usual each bowl contains a different topping. Pass the toppings to the left hand side."

After twenty minutes Ryan thought he could safely say he'd never eaten anything more bizarre- and he was a single 20 year old man. There were the usual Cheese and Tomato sauces, a nice herby one that reminded Ryan of a soup his mum used to make and some slightly more obscure ones. He saw a bowl of peanuts, crisps, something meaty and to his horror a bowl of sprinkles. To his utmost surprise the main consumer of the sprinkles/pasta combination was Brendon who was getting increasingly hyper as a result.

Ryan paused to re-evaluate Brendon. He had been icy towards him earlier and looked like he'd rather kill a bunch of puppies than share a room with Ryan but right now with the way he was laughing and joking- he looked like he was about to _adopt_ a bunch of puppies. Ryan thought that maybe it was just the shock of seeing Ryan earlier that had put Brendon in a bad mood- then Brendon looked up from his intense conversation with Pete and there was no mistaking the contempt in his eyes when he looked at Ryan.

They locked gazes and Ryan felt his face heat up, Brendon smirked in a self satisfied way and nodded at Pete. Pete picked up his knife and delicately with more than a hint of sarcasm tapped his can of red bull. The table fell silent and everyone turned towards him.

"It has occurred to me that we know next to nothing about Ryan, I propose an après meal question time!"

Ryan groaned. More questions. Frank looked at him worriedly and Spencer shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Everyone else however, seemed more than eager to quiz Ryan. Pete stood up and placed his palms flat on the table.

"So- tell us, what makes baby Ryro tick?"

Ryan panicked. Ryro? As in Ryan/Ross? But they couldn't know. Could they? Brendon snorted.

"He's so thick he can't even work out a nickname! Ryan Farro, Ryarro, Ryro. Get it? Good." He kicked his feet up and put them on the dining room table. Ryan blushed again, relieved but angry that he hadn't seen the similarity between his old surname and his 'new' one.

Naturally Brendon and Pete used the same nickname people had been using on him for years. Naturally. He breathed out. Frank poked him in the ribs and he looked across the table to where Pete was staring at him expectantly. Ryan cast around for something to say. He didn't really know what they wanted to hear.

"Umm...I..read a lot, I like..uh...music and I um...play stuff. I paint?" Ryan stuttered plaintively at Pete feeling all the more like the new kid at high school. Brendon laughed again and Pete flicked his head back and smiled at the ceiling. Gerard looked at Ryan appraisingly before opening his mouth slowly.

"To be or not to be, that is the question whether tis-," He stopped and Ryan got the hint and picked it up where he left off.

"Whether tis nobler to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune or take up arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them." Ryan closed his mouth with a snap.

Brendon lifted his head up from where it was resting in his hands and shot a puzzled look in Ryan's direction. He tilted his head.

"O think'st thou we shall ever meet again?" He said and cocked his head to the other side trying to anticipate Ryan's reaction. Without consciously deciding to, Ryan followed his lead with the next lines.

"I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve, For sweet discourses in our time to come." The words flowed easily from Ryan's lips. One of his secret I-will-never-admit-to talents was his ability to remember and spout Shakespeare. He'd forgotten his desire to never admit it when Brendon motherfucking Urie and his unfathomable charm had decided to be Juliet. Brendon's eyes widened and he continued.

"O God, I have an ill-divining soul! Methinks I see thee, now thou art below, As one dead in the bottom of a tomb: Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale." His eyes bored into Ryan's and the chocolate orbs sucked him into a whirlpool of mystery and cough-suppressed-homosexuality. Ryan replied without thinking.

"And trust me, love, in my eye so do you: Dry sorrow drinks our blood." He closed his mouth and stared at his plate. Great Ryan. You will now be known as Ryan Farro English nerd. Well played. He glared at his remaining pasta and wondered where this new found desire to impress Brendon had come from. Maybe he was more of an Arts weirdo than he'd thought. He waited for the insults and blows to fall. After a minute of relative nothingness he sucked in a breath, he looked up to Gerard opening and closing his mouth like a fish. Pete laughed and William giggled.

"Well, at least we know what scholarship Ryan got in on." Muttered Frank. Everyone made noises of assent and Ryan was surprised not to hear any of the usual comments of 'fag' although, he thought that might be slightly hypocritical considering everybody in the room's questionable sexuality. Speaking of. He looked up to see Brendon glaring at him. No change there. He'd been almost convinced the Shakespeare might break the ice.

Spencer and Alex cleared the table and the meal moved into the common room. The boys collapsed onto sofas and some lounged on the floor. Alex and Jack curled up together in an armchair in the corner and Brendon lounged on a sofa. Frank, Gerard and Mikey moved upstairs muttering about comics and movie marathons. Pete, Gabe and Bill were talking about fashion- leather jackets vs. purple hoodies whilst Ray and Bob played a heated game of chess by the fire. Ray was winning chucking each piece he took at Bob's face.

Ryan battled mentally with himself before deciding to chance a conversation with Brendon. He threw himself into a chair and turned to the teenager.

"So- you like Shakespeare?" He asked innocently. Brendon turned slowly towards him, away from where he'd been watching the fashion conversation with mild interest.

"Sorry- you've obviously mistaken me for someone who gives a damn." He turned back towards the conversation leaving Ryan stranded. Ryan stood up and told no one in particular that he was going to bed. He got a wave from Bob as he climbed the stairs.

He reached the top of the staircase to find Spencer Smith sitting with his head in his hands. Spencer's head shot up as Ryan approached. His red eyes betrayed the fact that e had obviously been crying. Ryan was so shocked at this sudden display of humility in contrast to Spencer's outward lack of emotion that it caused him to collapse down and pull Spencer into a crushing hug. As Ryan rubbed circles into Spencer's back he didn't quite know what to do. After about three minutes Spencer pulled back and rubbed his face with his hands. He looked at Ryan and made a small squeaky noise. He cleared his throat before continuing.

"Today was my birthday," He wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. "No one remembered." Ryan's mouth flopped open in surprise. This was not what he'd been expecting. Spencer shook his head as though to clear the fog of emotion that was attempting to crash down over him. Ryan couldn't blame him. Spencer's birthday had been overshadowed even more by his arrival- so it was partly his fault. As Spencer got to his feet he gave a grateful nod to Ryan. It conveyed a silent message that somehow got across. Ryan had made Spencer feel a bit better, and no one needed to know. Ryan staggered upright and they shared another silent embrace before Spencer opened the door to the room opposite Ryan's and waved goodbye leaving a puzzled and shocked Ryan behind. Still stunned at the exchange Ryan walked into his own room and sat down heavily on the bed.

What on earth had that been about? Ryan decided he'd find out in the morning- Spencer had mentioned being in his art class. He threw his clothes into an empty suitcase under his bed and pulled out a holey, oversized Beatles shirt. He threw it on over his boxers and climbed into his single bed. It felt stiff and unfamiliar but he thought it could easily get used to it. A different, more difficult thought struck his mind- he reached under his bed and fumbled around in his bags. Moments later he pulled out one of the tiny audio bugs he was supposed to be placing around the school. Where could be a better place than Brendon Urie's bedroom? He stuck it on the underside of the lampshade on his bedside table and twisted the wires into place. He lay back in his bed and smiled- Farro would be happy about the rooming. As he stared across at Brendon's bed he started to name artists on the posters he could see. By the time Brendon stumbled into the room at what the old digital clock displayed as half twelve Ryan was more than half asleep.

As he drifted in and out of that state between awake and asleep he registered the rustle of sheets from the other side of the room as Brendon slid into the bed across the room.

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><p>Eyyy! How fantabulous- another chapter complete! I have couple of things to mention in this AN- so bear with me. Firstly- all used of 'faggot' 'gay' and other words that could be considered derogatory, are purely in the context of Ryan's thoughts. He's still a bit of an outsider to the whole gay thing at the moment. As chapters progress and he learns to like the people and not just view them through their sexuality then the terms will probably crop up less and less. Also they will fuck. More on that later.<p>

This is later. This is a long fic...expect all of that goodness..but this is no PWP. This thing is heavy on the plot. So...there will be kissing and all that, but I'm working up to the good stuff. That being said, if any of you think I'm moving to slowly or lagging- please say. Feedback always welcome. Also...hows my paragraphing? Too short? Too long?

DROP ME A REVIEW! :D (if you want to make sure I'm including your fave pairing- ask. If I'm not...I'll work it in. Also- I post random ANs when I'm drunk. Apologies. 


	5. Roses

Chapter Five

Ryan woke up from a dreamless sleep the next day and he spent a few minutes looking around the unfamiliar room sleepily before questioning what it was that had woken him. It turned out to be a rhythmic thumping noise coming from outside his room. He rolled out of bed, running a hand through his now untidy hair. Ryan staggered to the door, opening it slowly and trying to adjust his eyes to the bright light beyond. Blinking slowly he stared blankly at the door opposite and was almost flattened by a rampaging Gerard Way. Ryan grunted as Gerard backed him over to his unmade bed and sat on top of him.

"Brendon is _such_ a twat!" Gerard exclaimed as he deftly removed Ryan's old shirt, his pale fingers tickling Ryan's ribcage as he whisked the garment away. At this point Ryan's still hazy brain made an effort to catch up to the situation and he brought up his hands to defend himself from any more clothing attacks. As Gerard made a move on his boxers, Ryan batted him away, causing Gerard to unhook his fingers from the elastic with a snap.

"Wait, wait. What are you doing?" Ryan asked groggily. Gerard rolled his eyes and stood up, slapping Ryan's thigh, he threw a smirk at the confused youth.

"I'm not trying to molest you, idiot. Its 7.45, lessons start at 8- Brendon didn't wake you up. I'm _trying_ to get you dressed." With a glare in Ryan's direction he dove under the bed, rifling through the cloths in Ryan's case before producing a pair of skinny jeans and a black fitted shirt. He found Ryan's green tie and converses and threw the heap of clothes at Ryan.

"On!" Gerard commanded, pointing."We have about five minutes to make you look vaguely presentable, and frankly-"He looked Ryan up and down. "You haven't given me much to work with."

Ryan decided to save being angry for when he might be able to get one of his long limbs to connect with Gerard's jaw, now half naked and still collapsed on a bed, he didn't stand much of a chance. As he got dressed he watched Gerard source some straighteners and eyeliner from the makeup bag Helena had _handily_ provided.

"I thought we only had five minutes." Ryan protested his voice a couple of octaves higher due to the high elastic content of the jeans. Gerard laughed.

"Oh please, I've been doing this for about seven years. Give me _some_ credit. One five minute Ryan makeover coming up!" with one diva-ish flourish of his arm Gerard lunged for Ryan's face. "Hold still!" He said, an evil grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Precisely five minutes and twenty six seconds later Ryan was pushed down the stairs and into the dining room with a rucksack slung over one shoulder. Mikey, Frank, Jack and Alex were still eating breakfast and all looked up when Gerard pushed Ryan into a seat.

"But I look even more like a girl than I did before!" Ryan moaned after Gerard, who had sauntered off into the kitchen. Frank looked Ryan up and down, taking in the spray on jeans attached to converses, topped with a delightful accent of black chest and bottle green tie.

"There's nothing wrong with- Oh." Frank stopped short when his eyes reached Ryan's face. Gerard had got a bit happy with the hair gel and consequentially the front of Ryan's hair remained straightened...but the back was spiked up in a messy fauxhawk style. His eyes were heavily rimmed with kohl and Gerard had easily found the stash of glitter dust Helena had packed, meaning there were deep green sparkles sweeping across Ryan's golden eyes, fading into his hair line. Ryan lowered his head, embarrassed, and the glitter sparkled delicately like tiny emeralds.

"Dude, you look so hot." Said Frank, his mouth dropping open. Ryan sank down even lower in his seat.

"That's the problem!" He muttered darkly. Mikey let across the table and tucking a strand of hair behind an ear, purred into Ryan's ear.

"I don't see a problem sugar" He paused to lick the shell of Ryan's ear before moving back across the table and continuing to eat his pop tarts. From the first word Ryan had frozen up. He was pretty sure he jumped about a foot in the air when he felt Mikey's hot breath on his cheek. He stared at Mikey with a stunned expression, re-evaluating his idea of the gawky boy from yesterday.

From across the room Alex snorted. He put down the fork that he'd been using to feed Jack pancakes and ruffled his hair.

"Don't flatter yourself Farro- Mikey'll shag anything that walks." As Frank stood up and was about to lunge for Alex, Gerard decided to walk back in with a plate piled high with toast. He turned to Alex and fixed him with a quizzical look.

"What did you say Alex? I couldn't hear you from the kitchen?" Ryan felt all eyes in the room turn to Alex in anticipation of his reply. Ryan could tell it wasn't going to be the socially correct one from the smirk that was forming on his face.

In an act of social suicide Ryan made the decision to save Alex's ass. He needed to get Alex on his side. As much as that might pain him. He realised this could irrevocably damage his relationship with Gerard...but he decided it was worth the risk.

"Alex said, 'Mikey could you pass me a fork.' Jack stole his." Ryan glared around the table, as thought daring anyone to disagree. No one did. He hoped that they couldn't see him shaking; he had never been good at standing up to people. Gerard shrugged and tossed a nearby fork to Alex, who caught it deftly. He and Jack exchanged glances and Frank and Mikey giggled silently into their plates, Frank looked slightly disappointed that he hadn't had the chance to hit Alex, but he hid it from Gerard well.

Alex moved his chair back with a deafening scrape; he glanced at jack before tilting his head in Ryan's direction.

"You wanna hang out with us for a bit?" He gestured to himself and Jack. "I mean, you need to see where music is and all that, right?" Ryan nodded. Conscious of the fact that Gerard and Frank were boring holes in the back of his head with their gaze, Ryan turned to them.

"You guys don't mind do you? I mean, I do need to find my way around." He added an excuse on the end, and hoped they would forgive him. Even though he was _obviously_ 100% focussed on the mission- he couldn't help but need some friends. He was surprised however, when Frank snorted into his cereal.

"You go for it dude, nice knowing you. When you start shipping clothes in from Jack Wills- I'll call the psychiatric ward." He laughed hollowly. Gerard, who was still standing, smacked Frank over the head with his spare hand.

"Don't be a twat Frank." He looked up at Ryan. "Don't worry about it- Ryan enjoyed the makeup far too much not to come crawling back to me." He winked at Ryan, who blushed bright red, "We'll see you later Farro." Gerard sat down in Alex's vacated chair and began to eat his toast. Quite diplomatic, thought Ryan. For someone who you would have thought would want any excuse to beat up Alex Fagskarth.

Speaking of, Alex grabbed his arm and dragged him over to the door. He stopped to call Jack, who threw down his fork and stood up, then pushed open the large wooden doors. When they got outside into the half light of a September morning, Alex looked in both directions before pinning Ryan up to the doors they'd just come out of. He roughly grabbed his arms and pinned them above his head.

"What. Was. That." Alex growled, he looked Ryan up and down. "You should be joining the emo brigade, not sucking up to me." He lurched backwards and glared. Ryan started to think he'd made the wrong decision when Jack stepped in. He had been hovering by the doors and moved to sooth Alex. Jack laid a hand on Alex's arm and spoke softly.

"Alex, calm down. Ryan was just trying to prevent a fight, I'm glad he did. I wouldn't have wanted your pretty face broken." He followed up the sickeningly sweet comment with a chaste kiss. Alex looked pleased, and slightly mollified.

"Alright then Farro. Fair enough." He shrugged it off and broke into a grin. "I wasn't lying though- Mikey Way is a total whore." He turned and started to walk down the path leading to the right. Jack strode over to Ryan and sighed.

"Sorry, he can be like that. Are you ok?" Jack asked worriedly. His tone full of a sincerity Ryan found hard to place. He smiled slightly and replied.

"I'm fine, a bit- startled I guess," He rubbed his wrists gingerly. "Was he telling the truth though?" Ryan looked up at Jack, wondering just how much truth there had been in Alex's harsh accusations. Jack looked visibly uncomfortable at the question and answered with a hand half covering his mouth.

"About Mikey? Um, yes, but Gerard doesn't know that his baby brother has slept with pretty much the whole of our year...and most of the other years too. Please don't enlighten him." Jack sighed and the hand fell away. "He's not the only one though; Pete is pretty bad- but in a different way. Mikey will string people along with the pretence of a relationship," He laughed hollowly. "Pete just wants to get laid."

Ryan's mouth fell open. This school wasn't just a rich building- there were rich people. It was incestuous almost. Sons of dignitaries on opposing sides of politics, fucking. It put perspective on the economy. That was for sure.

"But- but...how?" Ryan was confused- surely not all of the students were gagging for it. Surely there must be a glimmer of hope? One straight student in a sea of flamboyancy. Jack laughed again, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was bringing. He started to walk down the same path that Alex had taken, indicating that Ryan should walk along side him. As they strolled down the gravel path, Jack continued to explain.

"You see, it's hard for guys here to find girls. There's the local girls school nearby- but we never really meet up. There are a couple of guys here with girlfriends, but they're mainly long distance. Pete however has a system, a kind of code. Leave him something outside his door or get another student to pass it to him...and he'll be happy to accommodate. There's a chart somewhere that has an exchange rate." Jack frowned. "I think it was in the Omega common room last time I heard. It's something like, one red rose for a blowjob- a bunch of twelve for the whole shebang. Basically- easy sex for those in need. No one really counts anything that happens with Pete as meaningful."

Ryan walked in silence for the next minute or so- trying to process all of this information. Mikey was a slut and Pete was an escort. Alex was a dick- Jack was actually a nice guy. Or something along those lines. Was Alex's father running a brothel? Or a secret space mission? Either seamed just as feasible considering the insanity of the entire situation.

Before Ryan could decide to push it all from his mind for the time being, he and Jack reached a largeish square building. Jack led him silently through a door and into a vast Art room. Ryan frowned before realising that Jack was heading for the stairs in the right hand corner of the room. He followed. As they walked further up the winding staircase Ryan began to hear music. A soft lullaby on a piano. The melody ebbed and flowed as though it was water and the notes touched nerves that Ryan didn't even know he had. He walked blindly to the top of the stairs, still over whelmed by the tune. He heard Jack in the depths of his brain talking to him.

"Ryan- wait- I thought he wouldn't be here yet, wait-seriously it's" but Ryan wasn't listening. Suddenly Jacks voice stopped and so did the music. Ryan had unthinkingly opened the door to the left of the stairs and walked in on someone playing the piano as though it were an extension of their arm. As though the notes were imprinted on their DNA. They had stopped almost instantly.

-"Brendon." Finished Jack with a small sigh. Ryan gazed open mouthed as Brendon- who was staring back. The final noted died away and Brendon stood up abruptly.

"Morning Farro- so rude of you to drop in." He spoke in the same smooth, lyrical voice as he had the previous day. He swept the sheets of music off the Piano and into his bag, swinging it over his shoulder, he picked up his suit jacket from the stool and swept past Ryan, moving into the corridor behind.

"Nice makeup Ryro." He said softly as he opened another door and disappeared into the room's depths.

After several moments Jack coughed awkwardly. He turned and left Ryan standing in the door way, he muttered about getting Alex- sure enough about two seconds later, or so it seemed to Ryan's still awestruck brain, Alex tapped him on the shoulder.

"Still got Urie-shock?" Ryan nodded. "Yeah, happened to me the first time. Seems like that guy was born to sit behind a piano. Learned to read music before words apparently." Alex chuckled before dragged Ryan into the room that Brendon had left and swivelled him round.

"This is the practice room, we have guitars, Bass guitars, Drums, A Piano and a load of other shit." Alex gestured to the various instruments. The 'load of other shit' turned out to include a banjo, accordion and a harpsichord- amongst others.

Ryan was still processing both the instruments and the sound that had recently emanated from the Baby grand in the corner and he had to wake up suddenly as Alex tossed him a guitar.

"I recognise Guitar calluses when I see them, come on then- give us a chord?" Ryan did, and another one. He strummed through 'Help' intently as he realised that was exactly what he needed. When he had finished playing- he barley registered Alex's expression before he put it back down and strode purposefully over to the Baby grand. He stroked a couple of the keys for appearance sake-and then reached into his pocket and brought out the bug he had brought with him, securing it to the bottom of one of the keys. He looked up at Alex- who wasn't watching, but was talking animatedly into his mobile.

As much as he hated to admit it- if he wanted help- the CIA could give it to him. He lazily tapped through 'chopsticks' and then composed himself. Taking a few deep breaths he stood up and walked back over to Alex, Who shut his phone with a snap when Ryan approached.

"You done checking the place for bombs? 'cause it's time for you to meet Mr Armstrong."

Ryan didn't bother to correct Alex's bomb theory, and simply wandered out of the door after Alex. Thoughts chasing each other in his mind. Mainly about Brendon's not so hidden musical talent, and also, the all important question- of who in this messed up place, knew how to play an accordion?

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><p>SUP GUISE? So, I'm going to try and update weekly- every weekendish. Chapters might be a bit shorter now I'm back at school and stuck into school play. Fun times! leave us a comment please. :) x<p> 


	6. Crack

**_AN: Hola chicos. This is the edited version of the shit I posted yesterday, not too different- but maybe nicer to read! _**

Chapter six 

Alex led Ryan out into the music floor's corridor and gestured to the room on the opposite side. They walked together across the wide corridor and as Alex's hand closed around the door handle Ryan could hear voices inside. Without warning Alex threw open the door and shoved Ryan though to the spacious, well lit room.

It was rectangular in shape, with a whiteboard at the front and rows of desks- not unlike an ordinary classroom. A large, curving Victorian style window lit the room that was filled with ten or so students, the people lounging about on the desks were casting shadows onto the pale walls around them. Ryan recognised most of the students from dinner the night before, there was Ray the mirror guy and Bob the blonde. Mikey and Frank had clearly finished breakfast and were sitting in the sunlight. Alex dragged Ryan to a darker corner where Gerard and a student he didn't recognise were talking, Gerard was waving his arms around and the other boy was nodding vigorously. Gerard stopped gesticulating as they drew closer and he broke into a smile when he saw Ryan. He turned to the mop of black hair next to him.

"Hey dude, you have to meet the new kid." He poked his now still friend, who was rubbing his neck as though the nodding had given him whiplash. He spun round and shot out a hand for Ryan to shake. In Ryan's peripheral vision he saw Alex roll his eyes and walk off. In search of Jack no doubt.

"Hey! I'm Mr Armstrong, nice to meet you" The man, not boy as Ryan had first thought, lunged forwards and grabbed Ryan's hand anyway, allowing for Ryan's slow reflex due to the fact that his chin was attempting to reach Australia. Mr Armstrong laughed hysterically showing off a stunningly crooked set of teeth.

"Is it the hair? Or the eyeliner? Or both? I'm guessing not the eyeliner considering you look like you just walked out of Sephora yourself." He lurched away just as quickly and leapt up onto the desk where he had previously been seated. He turned to the room and stretched his arms high above his head.

"OI! Fuckers! Everyone grab a goddamn seat before I fucking draw a seating plan!" He then jumped of his perch and sauntered to the front of the class as everyone in the room moved to an empty seat. Gerard turned to where Ryan was still standing. He slapped Ryan on the back before stepping round him

"Yep- That, was Mr Billie Joe Armstrong."

Ryan finally snapped his jaw shut. Gerard poked him in the ribs and he took another look at the class. Now almost everyone was seated in pairs it was a lot easier to see who made up the music class. Alex and Jack were seated together, Bob and Frank, Ray and Mikey- Gerard moved to sit next to Ray...which left Ryan choosing who to sit next to. From Mikey and Brendon. Not cool. Ryan winced and made a quick fire decision, pulling up a chair next to Brendon. The youth didn't even turn towards him, just continued to pick at his nails.

"Right class," Said the voice at the front, "For Ryan's benefit could someone go through the routine we have going on here?" Mr A glanced around the class. Bob raised a hand lazily and was nodded at. The blonde turned towards Ryan and shrugged.

"It's easy to understand really, this lesson will be a kind of- this year we're doing this- type thing and then every week half of us go into the practice room and half do theory in here. We rotate." He looked back up to Mr Armstrong who was lying across his desk.

"What Bob said." He confirmed, rolling himself upright. "Today I'll fill you all in on the program for the year and then we'll do a bit of theory." There was a moan from the class and Ryan began to expect that theory lessons weren't everyone's favourite thing.

"All right, all right, calm yourselves children." Billie sat himself on the edge of his desk and crossed his legs. "As you all know the winter term includes the School play- which the upper seconds do the music for. So this is your year. Unless you're acting of course." He nodded to Brendon, who smirked. At a guess Ryan could tell that one of Brendon's subjects must be Drama, and he could see why. Brendon would make an excellent actor. Bitchy, confident, arrogant, handsome- Ryan coughed. Mr A shot him a strange look before continuing.

"As I was saying, the school play. I need to talk to Mr Walker about what the actual production will be, but he has confirmed it will be a musical this year." Whispering broke out in the room and Ryan could see Brendon exchanging glances with Jack. Jack must be a Drama student as well. A thought struck him- if this was an all male school...who played the women? As he wrestled with the concept of Gerard in a dress- Mr Armstrong spoke.

"Shut up guys, I know it's all very exciting- but hush." He gave a lopsided smirk. "There are of course bigger things to sort out. The school band, the talent show...the record deal." At this everyone stopped talking. Even Ryan managed to stem the flow of cross dressing thoughts. A record deal? Ryan knew this school had connections, but this was ridiculous.

"You heard me, record deal. As I'm sure you all know- Pete Wentz's father runs a club in Chicago called Decaydance, he is offering one musician here- or group of musicians, a contract to play at his club for three months. To make it all the more fabulous- Decaydance club is frequented by many big names in the music business and may be your ticket to the top." Mr A's grin faltered and he sighed. Ryan wondered if he wished he'd had a chance like that when he was younger. From the corner of the room Mikey spoke up.

"But how will Mr Wentz pick people?" It was a good point. One that Ryan had been contemplating himself. Mr Armstrong seemed pleased and he rubbed his hands together.

"Ah, this is the magical bit. Whereas the prize for last year's talent show was a lifetime supply of Red Vines- which is currently being enjoyed by Darren in upper first- this year..." He trailed off.

"It's a one way ticket to fame." Muttered Brendon from next to Ryan. It was the first thing that Brendon had said since the piano incident only fifteen minutes previous and it made Ryan jump. Brendon scoffed from next to him and raised his hand. Mr Armstrong looked surprised but indicated with a gesture that Brendon could speak.

"Mr A- I have a question, is it open to all years or just us?" Ryan sighed. Somewhere in his brain he had thought it might have been something worse.

"Good question Bren, yeah. Right, the Decaydance deal is open only to your year. For everyone else the first prize would be a free pass into the next year." There was an intake of breath from the class. Even though there was no next year for them, they could all imaging just how fiercely the other students would compete over the prize. Mr A laughed quietly.

"Patrick has certainly upped the stakes this year." He muttered, more to himself than to the class. It was sure to be a controversial point over the coming year, he had no doubt there would be students that would attempt to bribe him.

Over the next hour Mr Armstrong quizzed the class on everything from their summers to the best way to make a classical piece sound edgy. Ryan felt at ease in the class, the questions were basic and he could answer most of them. He had been worried that his lack of musical knowledge might prove an issue. Sure he could play the guitar- and the harmonica if he was asked. But tell him to transpose a piece into Db major? He might have to Google it.

At the end of the lesson Mr Armstrong split them up into two groups. Group A would spend the week in the practice room and Group B would do theory in the classroom. Ryan was relived to be put into group A- he thought the questions might get harder in the class. Group A consisted of Him, Ray, Jack and Mikey. Ryan was quite happy with the grouping, it meant he could get to know Jack better. He seemed to be less of an asshole when Alex wasn't around. After finding out their groupings Ray offered to show Ryan the way to the English class they shared, there was a twenty minute break between the classes and it meant that Ray would have time to show him round the English and Drama block properly before the class started.

They walked down the gravel paths side by side, not speaking. It was a comfortable silence that can be hard to find, but Ray seemed to be well accomplished at the skill. Their feet crunched in sync and Ryan took a break from analysing to really think about the beauty of his surroundings. If the maps he'd read were accurate then either side of the campus was surrounded by forest. The rear backed directly onto a hill- that if you could be bothered to walk up, flattened out into a large grassy area with a lake in the very centre. As he walked Ryan thought about maybe visiting it at the weekend.

Ryan almost walked into the back of Ray who was staring at something on the path up ahead. Ryan leant around the tall boy and realised it was not a something- but a someone. Ray made a noise deep in his throat that closely resembled a growl. Ryan couldn't see anything extraordinary about the man on the path but before he could say anything- a running figure sprinted from a nearby building and crashed headlong into the man, swearing and kicking.

Ray and Ryan ran over- as they got nearer the running figure turned out to be Frank who was screaming and punching every part of the man he could get to, the other fighter was giving as good as he got, flailing his arms around. Ray dug his hands in between them and prised them apart. Then- putting his arms under Frank's armpits he hauled him to the side of the path.

Ryan looked down at the scraggly heap of a man on the ground about a foot away from him, it glared back.

"Who the fuck are you then?" The man said in a cigarette husked voice, reaching up a hand to wipe at his split lip. Over by the grass Frank spat blood on the ground and swore. Ryan looked back and forth between the two- deciding not to get involved. He muttered something nonsensical and walked out of range

"Bert Mc-fucking-Crackhead," snarled Frank, finally providing a name to the beaten up face. "Kindly fuck off." He tried to get back over to Bert but Ray stopped him with a look.

"Frank, take Ryan inside and I'll talk to Bert." Ray sounded oddly calm as he shoved Ryan into Frank and marched over to 'Bert'. Frank protested briefly before raking a hand through his hair and sighing.

"Ok Farro- lets go." He lurched forwards, grabbed Ryan by the skinny arm and dragged him into what- from the wall displays seemed to be the English block after all. As the heavy doors swung shut behind them Frank sank to the ground. Ryan slid down next to him and stayed silent. They breathed in sync for a while before Frank closed his eyes and sighed heavily once more.

"That was Bert McCracken, Gerard's ex. He got kicked out after his first year but Gerard and he kept in contact. He tries to visit every now and again. He's never got past me, Bob and Ray though." Frank coughed wetly, leaning his head in his hands.

"I didn't think he'd pull something like this first day back, even if Alex has invited him to this godforsaken party." Ryan cocked his head, interested. So there was out of school interaction? It had never really occurred to him that these students might have friends outside of school.

At that moment Ray burst through the doors and collapsed next to them.

"He's gone for now," Ray muttered. "But you can guarantee he'll be back later." Frank nodded, his head still in his lap. Ryan felt out of place in the adrenaline of a situation he clearly had no right to be a part of. He started to get up whn Ray placed a hand on his arm.

"Bert is the ex we don't talk about for a reason, Ok?" He said, worry heavy in his voice. Ryan nodded.

He suspected there was more to this Bert character than Frank was letting on- but he let it slide. If Bert was at the party later- he might even be able to ask him in person.

"Right!" exclaimed Ray, leaping to his feet. "L'anglais!" He reached down and pulled a pissed looking Frank off the floor, "Let's go douchebags." His other arm curled around Ryan's wrist and he kicked the double doors to the left of them wide open- revealing a large lecture hall with one figure occupying the front desk.

Headmaster Patrick Stump.

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><p>Hello! Sorry for the confusion- you see a certain friend of mine. (Sarah M- I'm looking at you.) Makes me update on command, hence the shoddy update from last night. Apologies. Here is chapter six in its entire and perfectish form. R'and'R bitches. x<p> 


	7. Muggles

_**AN: Bit late, sorry guys! **_

Chapter Seven

Ryan did a double take. The headmaster teaches English? Ok then. Ryan, Frank and Ray moved further into the lecture hall, each taking a seat near the front. They were the first there, but considering the small class size- it would have been impolite to sit further back. Ryan reached into his bag and was surprised by the contents Gerard had packed. There were pens and pencils and paper which were fairly standard for any lesson. It was the two copies of Harry Potter that threw him. Surely they weren't-

"Ah! Greetings my fellow muggles! Early today I see. Good to know you and Ryro have bonded already!" Patrick strode around to the front of his desk as Ryan straightened up, Book in hand. The fact that the Ryro nickname had got round so fast hadn't surprised him. He was beginning to feel that _nothing_ about this school could surprise him anymore.

"Hey Mr Stump!" said Frank happily. As though this conversation was perfectly normal. Ray's 'Fro was deep inside his bag. He looked up and turned apologetically to the headmaster.

"I forgot my copy. Don't kill me?" Ray winced at the end of the sentence. Patrick only laughed and slapped him on the shoulder.

"Never mind Ray, just share with Frank. Oh- and tell me the first line of the eighth chapter of book two." The smile that had appeared on Rays face a moment before- abruptly left. He frowned and shook his head guiltily. Patrick tutted and was about to correct Ray when a lilting voice from the door spoke.

"October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle," Bill Beckett breezed into the room, gliding smoothly up to the front.

"That right Boss?" He asked Patrick, who smiled and laughed lightly.

"Well done Beckett, I still maintain the opinion you should have taken English." Ryan stopped rummaging through his bag and frowned. If Bill didn't take English, then why the hell was he in the room? He removed his head from his bag in time to see Bill disappear behind the curtains on the stage where the speaker's podium was situated.

Patrick turned round and shouted at the disappearing boy.

"Fine Beckett- You run off through that curtain to your little Drama studio! It will bring you no joy!" He turned round and breathed out. Looking at Ryan he shook his head.

"I lost my best student to the Drama department in his third year, never understood it personally." Her sniffed. "Now, as we are all here, I'll begin." Ryan looked around the room, he had been so focussed on Bill that he had missed Alex, Bob, Gerard and Mikey walking in. Bob was sitting next to him chewing a pen lazily. He turned to Ryan and smirked.

"Let the magic begin." He muttered.

It turned out that Patrick had chosen Harry Potter as the basis for their creative writing module. They were to look at the evolution of the writing quality over the seven books and investigate the claim that the longer the books, the better quality the writing. Ryan had never really taken much interest in the series and neither had Bob, as a result the lecture didn't much interest them. They spent the majority of the time passing notes rolled up inside pen lids and sliding them surreptitiously across the desks. About five minutes away from the end of the lesson a loud crash from behind the curtain stopped Patrick's rant about adjective use. Everyone looked up from their desks and a couple of people laughed nervously.

From beyond the dark blue cloth came a muffled voice.

"Is that the lower first class?" It was definitely a man's voice, older than anyone Ryan had met yet. Another teacher? Patrick chuckled darkly but remained facing away from the voice behind him.

"No Jon, this is Patrick. I'm with Upper seconds right now. Leave a message?" He tapped a toe on the wooden stage, laughter in his eyes.

"A little help?" Said the voice awkwardly. It sounded as though 'Jon' was in an element of discomfort. Gerard and Ray looked at each other, then leapt up- dragging open the heavy materiel to reveal the room behind.

It was on the same level as the lecture hall stage and therefore extended it into that of theatre dimensions. A lighting rig was bolted to the ceiling and several pieces of set littered the room. The Drama class, consisting of Brendon, Gabe, Jack, Spencer, Pete and Bill; were all seated on the wooden floor looking up. Ryan looked again at the ceiling, realising that what he had assumed was a bit of lighting- was infact Jon. Who appeared to be stuck. The English class surged forwards and all stared upwards, perplexed.

"Oh how lovely of all of you to drop in. NOW WILL SOMEONE GET ME DOWN?" Jon shouted from the ceiling. Pete laughed from below. He paused between bursts of hysterics to talk to Patrick.

"He was sorting out the lighting, rigging up some new spots and the ladder slipped," He waved his arm over to a collapsed bit of metal, which may have once been a ladder. "He just sort of, clung onto the rig and now...he can't get down."

"Oi 'Trick! Isn't the new kid doing electronics? That's almost lighting right? Get him to help!" Jon waved his one un-trapped arm in Ryan's direction. Ryan gulped. He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck as all eyes turned to him.

"I'm a...more of a robotics kinda guy..." He said nervously. There was a quick profanity from above and then Spencer shot up from his seated position.

"Ok, this is ridiculous. It's not even that high up. Jon is being a complete pussy," He directed his voice up. "Jump asshole. Don't make me come up there." He raised his arms up to the ceiling, beckoning with his hands.

Gabe who was standing next to Ryan muttered almost inaudibly to Bill.

"As usual, Spencer Smith has complete control of the situation." Ryan couldn't tell how much of that was sarcasm and how much was truth. To him Spencer seemed to have Jon well convinced. Jon was now hanging onto the heavy lighting rig with one hand, swaying slightly and muttering.

"Ok, ok. I'm going to- I'm going to-aaaaaaaaarrrrghh!" He let go, falling into the arms of both Spencer and Brendon- who had jumped to his feet to help. The two boys nodded at each other, before letting Jon fall to the floor. Jon covered his hands with his eyes and attempted to ignore the red flush forming on his cheeks.

"Class dismissed" He said weakly.

"So does that often happen?" Asked Ryan as he and Spencer left the English block. Ryan had gone back through to the lecture hall to get his bag and Spencer had followed him. It had been hard to do sneakily but Ryan managed to stick a bug to the underside of his desk as he 'picked up a pencil'. Spencer had then offered to show him over to the Art block. Art being the last lesson of the day before lunch. After that Ryan had to find a place to set up all his electronics.

"More often than you'd think" Laughed Spencer as he held open the door for Ryan. "Jon has the uncanny ability to get stuck in places." He shook his head. Ryan wanted to broach the subject of the previous evening- but he didn't want to prompt more crying. He'd never been the emotional type. Instead he settled for silence as they walked. As they crunched down the path together Ryan looked at Spencer. Looked at him properly.

Spencer Smith was of average height and build. That would be what the suspect profile would say. Ryan would disagree. There was a hunched sense around Spencer as though he had seen a lot in his short life. His eyes were older than they had any reason to be, and his walk was that of a man twice his age. He was, however, undeniably striking. He was the sort of person you would listen to, who could persuade you. Ryan thought that if Spencer used the same tone of voice as he had on Jon earlier, he would probably do anything Spencer asked.

"Ryan, Ryan, RYRO." Spencer clicked his fingers in front of Ryan's face. "You awake?"

Ryan jumped. Oops. He shrugged and looked around. They were back at the music building. If his memory was at all accurate then he and Jack had walked through the art room to get to the stairs. Spencer shook his head tolerantly and pushed open the doors. Ryan scuttled inside and breathed deeply. The smell of turpentine and acrylic paint hung thickly in the air. There was no haunting music from above to distract him and no one other than himself and Spencer to disrupt the quiet stillness of the room.

Spencer inclined his head away from the stairs and walked away from Ryan, indicating he should follow. As they walked Spencer showed him pieces of art in progress and named the artists. They walked past the vivid orange tree installation that could only have been Bill's. There was a completely blood red canvas that was identified as Gerard's. A little further down there was a board covered in intricate swirling designs that were labelled 'Frank's bitchin' designs', Spencer muttered the word 'Tattoos' as they passed. Round a corner there was a wide space that contained another piano- similar to the one upstairs. This one was covered in paint. As Ryan moved closer he could see that the designs weren't random and that the paint blobs and splatters were musical notes. He didn't have to think hard before realising it was Brendon's work.

At the far end of the room was a pile of scrap metal that Spencer caressed fondly. Metalwork and Woodwork Ryan recalled. They were Spencer's speciality. Next to that space there was a section of grey wall. One blank canvas was propped up on an easel and three sketchbooks rested on the ground nearby. Spencer bent down and retrieved them, pressing them into Ryan's hands.

"These are yours; I reserved this section yesterday lunchtime. I thought you'd appreciate it." Spencer lowered his gaze. Ryan rested a hand on his shoulder and said what he thought might have been the first truly genuine thing he's said in the last two days.

"Thank you man." Spencer looked up and smiled, he seemed to thrive off helping others. Ryan sat down cross legged on the floor and looked at the canvas in front of him. What the hell was he supposed to paint?

"I don't know, whatever you want I guess." Ryan whipped his head round to see Spencer looking at him. Ryan cocked his head and Spencer winked.

"Mind meld." He said, turning back to his pile of scrap. Ryan continued to stare at the canvas and was only interrupted about five minutes later. A hand came to rest on his shoulder; Ryan spun round and locked eyes with a man he's last seen pinned to the ceiling by his own stupidity.

"Hi Ryan, Welcome to Art. My name is Jon Walker and I'm your teacher for your remaining year." He smiled and gestured around the room to the boys who were slowly filing into the room. Jon was older than Ryan, younger than Mr A and...around the same age as Patrick, Ryan decided. Taking in Jon's paint splattered shirt and scruffy beard.

"At the end of last year I asked the guys to think about what they really loved, be it art related or not. Brendon chose music- his roots in music come from the first time he played a piano as a child. Hence the piano", He grinned. "Bill has always loved the Beatles, I'm sure the line 'With tangerine trees and marmalade skies' is not lost on you. That's where the idea for his project came from.

Ryan looked around the room, it made sense- a little slice of the person coming through in their art. Very poetic. Jon crouched down and studied Ryan briefly before grabbing his hands. He turned over Ryan's palms and stretched out the fingers, looking at their length and delicacy, he smiled.

"Painting for you I think. Whilst I grab the acrylic you think about what you want to use for a subject." Jon got to his feet and strolled over to the corner where a cupboard containing tubes of paint in perfect rainbow order were stored. Ryan watched him go, watched the way Spencer followed Jon with his eyes. Interesting.

Ryan shook himself and thought about his strongest memories and influences. Music of course, self destruction, literature. Oh. It was so obvious. The image sprang to the front of his mind. Age five, in the garden with his mother- the smell thick in the air. Age fifteen, first date- clutching it in his sweaty hand as he knocked on her door.

He thanked Jon when he returned with the crate of paint and immediate reached for the red. There was no point in sketching first, he knew exactly the image he was about to paint. He let his mind wrap around the concept and dipped a brush into the puddle of crimson. The moment overtook him and his arm made a strong arc of vibrance across the canvas. Losing himself in the moment.

"Dude." Ryan almost dropped his paintbrush. Spencer was poking him with a spanner, "Dude, lessons over, time for lunch." Spencer patted Ryan on the back and looked up admiringly at the lines on the canvas- it was almost full of abstract colour and lines.

"Roses? I like it." Jon spoke from behind the two boys. He levelled up with them and placed a hand on his hip, "You'll have to tell me the thought process behind that one sometime Ryro, I look forward to that Canvas developing.." He sniffed. "In the meantime, Spence and I have some clearing up to do."

Ryan looked around the room, everyone had vacated the room save for him, Spencer and Jon. It was almost as though the lesson hadn't happened. He bent over his paint, capping the paint and smushing the paintbrush against a paper towel. He watched out of the corner of his eyes as Spencer and Jon walked over to the metal heap that appeared to have changed shape slightly.

Ryan watched as Jon followed Spencer's every move. He watched as Spencer stared at the back of Jon's neck. Try as he might, he couldn't miss the moment when Spencer moved a section of metal that Jon had also lunged for. As their hands touched they didn't flinch away as he had expected, Jon's hand closed around Spencer's and they locked eyes. This wasn't a new relationship. Ryan's spy brain kicked into gear.

Jon couldn't be much older than the boys themselves, maybe did a Patrick and came straight back after a degree. In that case he could have still been at the school when Spencer was in his first year. Allow for a couple of visits in the summer to keep the relationship strong...in a place like this- it was perfectly possible. Jon was naturally friendly and no one would think anything of it, clearly well liked and Spencer was widely respected. So along as it was kept fairly quiet...then it could be done.

Ryan's brain was going a mile a minute as Spencer grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the art block several minutes later. He decided there was no way round it and as they walked back toward U2 block Ryan cleared his throat.

"So- how long have you been in love with Jon?"

Spencer stopped dead in the centre of the path before turning slowly to Ryan.

"It's that obvious huh?"

* * *

><p>Joncer, I ship it. Now- I have a bone to pick with you. Yes. YOU. I have so many people reading this baby- and like three(?) commenters. I love those guys with my whole heart. So if you're one of those 'Ohmygawwsh I cba to reviewwww' people...spare a thought for my poor uninspired brain? Reviews give me the confidence to write more. So~ You do the math.<p>

Apologies for the late update, Sarah's fault. She keeps texting me.


	8. Fireworks

Chapter Eight

Ryan looked at Spencer. The guy clearly didn't have a clue just how in love with Jon he was. The body language, the eyes. This was every textbook sign that Ryan had been told to watch for. He was about to reply to Spencer when Jon himself came running out of the art block behind them. He skidded up to Spencer on the gravel and handed him a sketchbook.

"You forgot this." He said, blushing. He turned to Ryan and opened and shut his mouth a couple of times. Looking as though he wanted to follow up that statement with something else. Instead he settled for a nod- and sped off in the other direction. Spencer looking after him wistfully.

Ryan grabbed the sketchbook out of Spencer's distracted hands and flipped it open. It was blank. He frowned at Spencer, who looked equally puzzled. Ryan waved the sketchbook around, working himself up to a speech on teacher-student relationships. Then, with a particularly violent gesticulation, some pieces of paper dropped out of some of the pages and flopped to the ground.

Spencer stooped low to grab them- and came up screaming. He jumped up and down for a while, his voice fading out to a strangled cough. Ryan looked on incredulously, laughing at the boy in front of him. When Spencer stopped bouncing long enough for Ryan to grab the paper, he looked at them before breaking into a wide smile.

One of the pieces was a note, it read;

_Dear Spence, sorry I couldn't get this to you yesterday. Take a friend? _

_Jon._

The two last pieces were tickets. To the 25th Anniversary tour of Phantom of the Opera. Ryan almost squealed. He might be straight- But come on. Who doesn't love Phantom? He caught himself at the last second and barked out a laugh instead of a squeal.

"Bit gay aren't you Spence?" Ryan grinned, pulling the still hyperventilating boy into a hug. He lowered his voice and whispered into Spencer's ear "Seems like not everyone forgot huh?" Spencer squeezed back as a response. When Ryan released him from the tight _manly_ hug Spencer was singing under his breath. He stopped, grinned at Ryan and started to walk away. He called back over his shoulder.

"I'm going to go off to Woodwork early- I have blocks of tree to mutilate. I'll catch you later. Try the main school for an empty place to put your electronics!" He started to sing again as he almost skipped back to the Art block. Presumably to thank Jon.

Ryan shrugged and pulled his bag higher up his shoulder. He did need to set up ...so he might as well get going. As he strolled over to the largest building on the campus he thought about his day so far. It was only lunch time, and yet he felt like he had a pretty good picture of school life already. After all, with only three proper lessons a day- there wasn't much to get his head round.

The social circles were a lot harder to grasp though. He thought that Spencer was becoming his friend. In a roundabout 'you know too much' kind of way. He liked Spencer, they seems to have a bit of a mind meld thing going on. Alex seemed to really be as much of a dick as described; Jack actually appeared to be alright when he was separated from _his one true love_. Gerard and Frank were hardcore to the emo team, but seemed like people he would be able to form a fairly strong friendship with. Not that that would help in the mission to get closer to Brendon. Speaking of. Brendon was probably the least promising friend out of every possible person. From the interactions so far Ryan thought the feeling was probably mutual, there was something undeniably interesting about the guy though. He didn't know the others all too well yet. He'd have to try and corner some of them that evening and strike up conversation.

Ryan reached the back entrance of the main building. Frank had taken him out this way the previous afternoon. He shoved to door open and tried to remember which way the stairs were. He walked past classrooms, many with students still inside. Ryan presumed different years had different lunch times- therefore he'd have to be much sneakier in his approach to finding a place to stash his stuff.

He sniggered to himself. Stash his stuff? He wasn't a drug dealer. He was a legitimate student trying to find a legitimate place for his approved Optional. Nothing wrong with that. It was only when he pulled open the door to the upper corridor on the second floor that he realised his hands were both sweaty and shaking. He sighed, rubbed his hands on his jeans and pressed forwards.

Around half way down the corridor, after meeting a grand total of zero people, Ryan came across a little side corridor. It was up about three stairs and along a bare wooden floor. There was just enough room to fit two people side by side, and even then it would be a tight squeeze. Ryan chuckled to himself. You could probably fit about ten William Becketts down there though.

As he shuffled down the passageway he found a couple of cupboards full of supplies for the new year. Books, lever arch files and several giant tubs of biros. Ryan hesitated before shoving a couple into his bag- you could never have too many biros. The third cupboard he tried was stuck closed. Someone had painted over the door and it was jammed. Ryan reached into his bag and pulled out one of the pens; taking of the lid he ran the pointed tip down the crack of the door. With positive results. When he shoved it again, the door fell open.

Ryan coughed as dust flew into his face, he waved his arms about and waited for the air to clear. There was no light on in the cupboard and he pulled his phone from his pocket to light his way. He moved into the small space and shut the door behind him When the door swung closed it was as though the darkness had swallowed up all the warmth. Ryan tried to dispel all thoughts of childhood monsters that threatened to have him running from the corridor. He turned round and walked two steps inside before ramming into something. He reeled backwards, arms flailing. Ryan braced himself up against the wall- and by happy coincidence managed to hit the light switch that had been on the inside all along.

As the small room was thrown into light Ryan was forced to evaluate his entire perception of the school. These students weren't just privileged, clever and a little bit cheeky- they were downright devious. This room that Ryan had stumbled upon was a little bit bigger than most disabled toilets you get in restaurants. So, not big enough to dance the Time warp but the Macarena could be attempted. There were shelves lining two walls, one with what looked like student items. Fireworks, knives, guns, raunchy magazines and...Ryan blushed, a giant tub labelled CONDOMS ETC. That one was going to stay unexplored. The other shelf held boxes of lost property including what looked like a mankini. Ryan was in the confiscated items closet. Presumably a place lost in the mists of time.

Ryan doubted much got confiscated these days, what with the teachers seeming so lenient. He sighed and looked down at his shins to see what it was he had almost fallen over. It was a cardboard box with, by the bruises he could feel forming on his shins, something heavy inside it. Ryan shoved it away and turned to look at the other wall that wasn't the one with the door in. He gasped when he realised what he was looking at. It was a bank of computer screens, dusty and worn. All the technology appeared to be at least two decades old, but it was a start. It was more than he could have dared to hope for. He had thought he might strike lucky and get a couple of wall sockets, but computers were better. Ryan sank to the floor and started to rummage underneath the desk. There was one rickety desk with eight screens piled on top of it. As Ryan fiddled with the frayed wires he thought about why they might be there. CCTV? Unlikely. Unless these computers were left over from when the building was a stately home, but wasn't that hundreds of years ago? He'd email Farro later and ask him to check up on it.

Ryan smiled as he worked. He didn't have much more than his bare hands with him today, but tomorrow he could set up all of the microphone bugs to transmit to the laptop he'd brought with him. Then he could use the cables from the computer to get internet and, well the possibilities were endless. Provided Patrick didn't decide to introduce a reformation on school policy and open up the library of contraband again. Ryan hummed to himself as he stripped cables with his teeth, he realised after about five minutes that he was humming his way through Phantom of the Opera. He grinned as he thought of the look on Spencer's face when he realised Jon hadn't forgotten his birthday. Even though their relationship was illegal and wrong and all that, it was undeniable sweet. The way Jon blushed and Spencer looked like a flipping puppy every time Jon got within two feet of him. That was the sort of thing you couldn't get anywhere outside of love. Ryan nodded to affirm this thought. Unfortunately the desk was just low enough that this meant he cracked his head upside of the flat surface.

"FUCK!" He hissed, before covering his mouth with his hand. He sat in silence for several moments before rolling his eyes and sliding out from underneath the desk on his stomach. He flipped onto his back and lay in the centre of to room breathing slowly. His twitched his foot to the left and it collided with the giant box from earlier. Curiosity piqued, Ryan sat up and dragged it towards him. He presumed it would be contraband of some form and dragged a nail down the tape in the centre. He lifted the edges of the box and peered inside. Bottles, he should have guessed. There wasn't nearly enough alcohol in the room. He shrugged to no one in particular. He _had _thought it might have been something more interesting. He didn't even bother to check the dusty labels and shoved the box back into the corner. He got to his feet to shake out the wrinkles in his clothes. Only to realise that the skin tight outfit had prevented anything other than a light fold.

Ryan sighed and checked his watch, half past three. Not bad timing. Everyone else would have finished their optional half an hour ago and would probably just be around in U2 block. Ryan thought this might be a good opportunity to talk to some of the people he had yet to have a proper conversation with. Gabe and Bill for example. Or Pete. Although Pete seemed to have a...reputation that he would no doubt try to uphold with Ryan.

As he left the room with his bag over his shoulder, Ryan wondered if this would be safe place to store all the electronic equipment that was in the smallest suitcase he'd brought. He decided that maybe if he found some caution tape and stuck it over the door he might stand a better chance of keeping it secret. He turned and inspected the door. It was unlikely anyone would come and check the hidden alcove today. Ryan's stomach growled ominously and he poked it. He hadn't eaten since breakfast so he decided that the kitchen would be his first port of call.

As he meandered back to the door he looked in at the afternoon classes. All of the rest of the school had a full after lunch timetable, there were language classes, maths, English even what looked like a stray geography class. They sunshine still poured in through the windows. As he walked back out of the door he almost didn't notice that a giant bush by the side of the path was twitching, and smoking. Ryan wasn't a genius- but he was no Moses either. So that bush was not divine intervention. His head flicked around and he backspaced up to it. When Ryan was standing next to it the plant was about a foot over his head, he coughed pointedly at the vegetation and a head shot out of the bottom.

It was that kid that had glared at him the first day. By Patrick's office possibly? He was definitely younger so Ryan had no misgivings about dropping his bag and grabbing the collar of this boy, dragging him out from under the plant.

"Name?" Ryan enquired politely. There were some topics he wasn't nervous about- blatant rule breaking and the punishment of those doing so, was basically his job.

"Benjam- Uh Benji Madden" Stuttered the kid, who then looked up. He blushed and straightened himself up. Gaining an attitude as he realised Ryan wasn't a teacher. Ryan looked at the boy properly. He was wearing a cut-off white shirt and had plenty of tattoos. One earring and a cap. All in all, not your typical academy student.

"I'm in upper first, yes I'm skipping class. Fuck you." Reeled off the muscled teen. Ryan shrugged, what the kid did was none of his business really. He was the new guy and couldn't really hold down the law just yet. He let go of Benji's shirt and stepped backwards. The smoking, he now realised, came from the cigarette he held obviously behind his back.

"They don't let you smoke?" Asked Ryan, losing the intimidating demeanour. Genuinely intrigued. They seemed to let a lot go on in this school, yet Benji was hiding in a bush to light up.

"Nope." Replied Benji, flicking the ash onto the path, "But they've never caught me yet." With that he looked into Ryan's eyes. As much a challenge as a beseeching gaze. Ryan rolled his eyes. He needed friends right?

"Well they won't catch you today. Piss off." Ryan waved his arm towards the main building and Benji took off. He called over his shoulder as he ran.

"You're all right Ryro, You're all right."

Ryan stared after him. Or more accurately stared after his muscles. He shook his head and tried to dispel the thought of Benji's biceps with a thought about Helena's hips. He then had a shot internal debate about alliteration- before walking back to U2. He thought it was strange that he hadn't seen another single classmate. Maybe they all went off campus for the afternoons? He puzzled at it as he turned the door handle to go inside.

He got a foot inside the door before the rest of him was pulled inside by three pairs of grabbing hands.

* * *

><p>THIS IS SO LATE I'M A HORRIBLE PERSON I HOPE YOU GUYS STILL LOVE ME. I've got another chapter after this one already written, so If I get comments soon- then you can have that one today. That one has hot sweaty gayness in it. (It's taken long enough to get some action in here. Soz to all readers who wanted fast smut.)<p>

Anyways, I have a maths tutor and a party today. You have a chapter to review.


	9. Buckets

_AN: I've re-written this chapter a billion times, but hello again._

Chapter Nine

"What the fuck?" Spluttered Ryan as he was pulled through the doors of the U2 block. The heavy wood thunked together behind him. Ryan stumbled, slipped on the rug just inside the door, and fell into the arms of none other than Pete Wentz. Ryan's life flashed before his eyes as thoughts of roses flew through his mind. He wrestled himself from the strong grip of the tanned boy and looked around.

The pounding in his head, he discovered, came not from his near wentz experience, but from the giant set of speakers in the corner of the room. The common room itself had been transformed into what resembled a club of sorts. The chairs and sofas had all been pushed over to the corner with the fireplace. It was the end furthest away from the speakers and was comparatively quiet. The opposite side was now a make shift dance floor, with the bottom steps of the stairs that faced the room acting as a stage, where Gabe was writhing to a beat of his own creation. The space in front of him was filled with people, all of them dancing. There were lights rigged to the curving staircase that meant that all of the dancers were bathed in changing neon light.

Ryan's attention was grabbed from the floor and directed to the door into the dining room where a boy Ryan didn't recognise had just fallen through. He was greeted by a round of applause as he staggered over to the leather chairs and promptly passed out. Pete spun Ryan around and looked at him squarely.

"I'm only going to explain this to you once Farro, so listen good." Ryan nodded, picking up on the urgency in Pete's voice, "Sofas are for passing out and making out, Dance floor is for dancing, Dining room is the dare room, kitchen is where the drinks are. No one is allowed upstairs before 12, No one from off campus is allowed in your room. Understand?"

Ryan nodded again, soaking in the information. Pete gave him a wink and strode off into the crowd of people now surrounding the passed out boy. All around Ryan were the typical scenes of a party with- to Ryan's surprise, a handful of girls thrown in. He did a quick headcount; he thought he counted at least 15 girls. He did a double take when he realised that was about the number of people in his year, then how was the room so full and loud? Another unfamiliar hand tapped him on the shoulder and he spun round. It was Mikey. Ryan instinctively jerked away, mindful of Mikey's slight less than veiled advances. He managed to jerk away- right into Gabe's arms. The tall youth had abandoned the decks in search of the new kid.

Before he could protest, Ryan was dragged up to the stairs and forced to join Gabe. The crowd of people in front of Ryan cheered, although what for, he wasn't sure. He scanned the crowd for anyone he recognised. Gerard and Bob were loitering at the back, what surprised him was that Frank and Ray weren't with them. That group seems inseparable. His attention was diverted as Gabe grabbed him round the green tie.

"This is him everyone! This is the reason this fabulous code blue has been moved forwards by a couple of weeks! This is the one, the only- Ryan Farro! Doesn't his eyeshadow look great?" Another cheer went up from the crowd, a bra flew past Ryan's left ear. Gabe ate up the attention; he probably had not had a reason to work up a crowd for ages. Other than 'yay lets all get smashed'.

"All the St Francis Girls give us a scream!" They did. "All the Mike's Guys!" A roar sounded throughout the cavernous room. "All of the people that think Farro here is a hot piece of ass?" Ryan didn't stop to listen. He shimmied past Gabe and onto the floor. He'd never liked large crowds and he needed to stay out of the limelight, especially if there were people here from outside of St Michael's. Anyway, they weren't even paying attention to him anymore. They were feeding of Gabe's infectious energy. As he headed to the dining room, contemplating his thirty seconds of fame, Ryan passed several people who nodded at him or raised their predictably blue plastic cups. About two metres away from the double doors Ryan bumped sharply into somebody, he stuttered out an apology as he turned.

"Oh, god- Sorry, I- Oh." Ryan stopped short. The person who he had bumped into was of the female species. Something he was not expecting. She had bright turquoise hair and a lip ring, she was wearing an outfit that closely mirrored his, a black vest with black jeans and converses.

"You're Ryan right? Nice to meet you." She waved her cup at him, "I guess this is kind of confusing for you. This must be your first St Mikes party right?" Ryan nodded and she chuckled, her lip ring sparkled in the changing light. She spoke with a lilting tone, and fast enough that Ryan had to really listen to what she was saying so he could understand.

"You'll get used to them, they happen often enough," She sniffed. "It's funny- there are never that many boys from your school actually here, they only let your year and the year below in." She tilted her head to the side, as thought this was something that really bothered her. It was something that Ryan had been thinking about himself- after all there had to be easily two hundred people in that room alone. He cleared his throat and tilted his head in the same direction as hers.

"So, uh, how come there are so many people here and um girls? Sorry if it's a stupid question...I uh." Ryan was panicking. It seemed that only a day at this school had robbed him of all ability to speak to members of the opposite sex.

"Oh, I guess that could be confusing," The girl turned Ryan around and pointed over his shoulder at people. "See those guys?" She gestured to a group of guys in polo shirts and chinos, "They're from the boys grammar school further into town, these guys-" She turned Ryan around again, pointing this time to a couple of older looking men, "-are last year's leavers from your school, they're entitled to return to any party they want." Ryan was twisted round for the last time as the still unnamed girl pointed at five other tall, slim girls, all dancing together.

"They are one of the groups of girls from St Francis' high, the popular group," She raised an eyebrow at Ryan. "The cliques work very similarly to yours." Ryan smiled and turned around to face her.

"So what clique are you in?" He asked, talking loudly over the music which had increased in volume since Gabe had broken out the dubstep. The girl in front of him wrinkled up her face in disgust at the music change and turned back to Ryan.

"The emo crowd," She shouted. As she said this another girl- dressed similarly, but wearing a black mini-skirt and tights instead of jeans, appeared and shouted something in her ear before dragging her away. As she went- turquoise hair drifting behind her, she called over her shoulder.

"It's Cassie, by the way, see you arou-" Her last words were cut off as a figure blocked her from view. It was Frank, he smiled.

"I see you've met Cassie?" He raised an eyebrow. Ryan remembered that he was supposed to be playing the overly straight man role. He nodded and looked wistfully after her, hoping this would have the desired effect.

"Yes, she's gorgeous, single and clever- but she copied my lip ring," Frank grabbed Ryan's arm and started to pull him over to the dining room, his original destination. "Now, let's see if we can't get you drunk."

As Frank dragged Ryan through the crowded dining room he decided he would continue with the innocent act. The idea that he didn't _do_ parties had gone down well the other night, so he thought it would be best to stay consistent. They burst through into the kitchen and Frank slowed down.

Ryan looked around, taking in the celebratory changes that had happened in the kitchen. For one thing, the lights had changed to a bluish hue. It gave the room the effect of being deep underwater or at least somewhere not altogether normal. The coffee machines had been moved from the worktops. Replaced by row upon row of alcohol bottles. Ryan recognised most of them, the more common of the bottles being blue WKD vodka from the UK. Surprise , surprise. Some things never change. The thing that was the most insane was the bar that had been constructed in the corner; it stretched the entire width of the room and looked as though it has been ripped straight from a gay bar. The neon lights flashed ominously as Frank pushed him further into the room.

"A drink for my main man Toro, and hurry it up." Frank giggled and dragged Ryan over to the bar stools that had been arranged around the glowing edifice. There were five stools, Two already occupied by Bill and some other guy that Ryan didn't recognise. Ryan dragged out a seat and sat down, just as a harassed looking Brendon burst into the kitchen.

"Ray, can we get another bucket in here?" He spun around, looking for a bucket apparently. Ryan didn't want to know why. No one had changed out of their uniform but Brendon definitely seemed to be the most ruffled person Ryan had seen that evening. His tie was at a strange length, his shirt crumpled and buttoned wrong. His hair, that had been neatly combed that morning, was now a wild mess. He looked around the kitchen, looking straight through everyone.

Speaking of messy hair, Ray popped up from behind the bar. He was sporting an apron and a dishcloth. As he went to help Brendon he slammed a drink down in front of Ryan. It had an umbrella and a plastic monkey. Ryan eyed it suspiciously. Frank picked it up and sniffed it.

"Safe." He said smiling, and pushed it back over. Ryan picked up the cocktail glass and took a sip. Tequila and Blue Curacao. He smirked into the glass, before choking animatedly.

"What is that!" He gasped, slamming the glass down. Frank snorted and Bill chuckled from the other side of the bar. They'd bought it.

"That wasn't much Ry. Try it again." Frank picked up the glass, sipped it pointedly, and passed it back over. Looking at Bill. Ryan took a proper gulp this time, not bothering to hide his genuine distaste at the combination. It was going to go straight to his head as he hadn't eaten in hours. Although, he wagered he could still drink any one of the boys under the table- or bar. Not that he'd be doing that tonight. Acting drunk was his best plan at that point. Brendon and Alex weren't around to be gotten drunk, so he'd do the next best thing.

Ray came back just as Ryan drained the glass. The afro promptly disappeared behind the bar again, only to reappear moments later with a bottle full of a translucent blue liquid. He poured some into a shot glass and slid it silently towards Ryan. Who picked it up, and downed it. He registered the burn as the liquid shot down his neck. When he closed his mouth and rolled his tongue around, there was no trace of a flavour. Straight vodka, with blue food colouring.

He shuddered, involuntarily. If he didn't choose to handle this situation carefully, it could get messy- not to mention dangerous, going by the amount of vodka in that bottle. Frank took his shudder to be from the alcohol and rubbed his back jokingly.

"You ok man? Can you carry on?" He winked and grabbed the large bottle, pouring another shot. Ryan coughed and laughed.

"Sure, as long as you make sure I don't do anything stupid." He pulled the second shot towards him. As he lifted it to his lips Frank spoke.

"I won't," He breathed in, "But I challenge you to a game of Shags and Shots." The last part was ejected from his mouth so fast Ryan thought it might have broken the sound barrier. He placed his glass down, making sure to shake slightly.

"A game of what?" He asked, watching out of the corner of his eye as Bill shot up out of his seat and into the dining room.

Frank closed his eyes. His dark hair flopping over his eyes.

"Basically, you take shots, until you can't drink another, then you pass it. If you pass the shot- you remove an item of clothing. It keeps going until someone passes out." He sighed, "Also, this definitely wasn't my idea. They thought you'd trust me enough."

Ryan stuttered around words, flailed slightly and looked everywhere but Frank. Too perfect.

Well, he reasoned with himself, slightly perfect. He was about to get Frank very drunk, but Frank didn't know anything about Brendon and Alex's parents. Well, probably not. He pushed himself to his feet- swaying calculatedly. A hand on his shoulder steadied him. Ryan turned, catching bright eyes of Alex Gaskarth.

"Come on Ryro, let's go." Any friendship they'd formed earlier in the day had vaporised. Behind Alex were faces Ryan recognised, and some he didn't. There was a noticeable absence though. No Brendon.

Ryan allowed himself to be manipulated into the next room, staggering and moving sluggishly as he went. He took a moment to look around the room properly for the first time that day. There was a cloying scent of perfume and alcohol that hung in the air, dragging Ryan's eyelids down. The large table had been pushed against one wall, leaving a large space in the middle of the floor, the huge wooden surface was littered with blue cups, blue bottles and clothes. A large crowd was gathering in the room, those that had followed Alex and those that Gabe and Bill were leading in from the common room. One chair was covered in coats, another in bras. In the centre of the newly cleared floor was one small table with two chairs.

Ryan was shoved into one and Frank took the other. Frank looked around nervously, his usual light hearted smile gone. Not used to the attention Ryan surmised. Pete had pushed himself to the front of the crowd that were ringing the table; he walked into the middle to be next to Ryan. He lent over.

"Wasn't my idea either kid, I told you to look out for yourself? Although, I won't lie to you- I'm looking forward to this." his hot breath floated against Ryan's skin. He hadn't been drinking Ryan realised. Interesting. Pete straightened up, opening his arms up to the room. Ryan closed his eyes and slouched slightly, thinking all the time.

"Welcome one and all, to another game of Shags and Shots!" He paused for a short cheer. He got it. Some people were clearly very drunk already, others just joining in with the infectious atmosphere. Ryan fidgeted, he was genuinely slightly worried.

"As you all know, there are on average three of these per party- but seeing as this is the first of the year- and the newest addition to our family is a contender, I thought it deserved some pomp and circumstance," He gestured to the table. "Hence the slightly more intimate setting." A few people laughed, including Ryan- a large drunk laugh.

"Speaking of intimate- I'll just refresh everyone's minds with the rules and regulations. There are two players, one is challenged and one is the challenger. Before the game starts it is thrown open to the spectators that anyone can swap into the game, this can either be accepted or denied by the player. Shots are poured, these are dependent on the code of the party being held." Pete beckoned Ray who was carrying a tray with two shot glasses and the vodka from earlier. He sighed as he placed them in front of Frank and Ryan. Pete continued, his gestures animated.

"The loser has to be the barman at the next party, and the winner gets to DJ." As he continued Ryan turned to Frank. Frank's eyes were darting around the room, settling on Gerard and Bob who were throwing him confused glances. He turned to Ryan.

"Gerard won once, it was great." He made an attempt at a small smile. Ryan just fake giggled breathily, his ears were drawn back to Pete as he spoke.

"Of course, there are steps that have to be taken in the unlikely event that all clothing is removed- these will be up to the remaining spectators to decide."

Ryan frowned.

"Remaining?" he asked Frank sharply, glaring. Frank frowned before a look of comprehension dawned on his face. Ryan cursed internally. He'd not said that nearly drunk enough. Frank shook his head in disbelief. He leant forward over the table.

"Gerard was right about you Farro." He looked up, and back. "Pete said remaining because Patrick kicks everyone out at 2. This game has gone on to 5 before. Although, considering how good an actor you are- we'd all anticipated it would finish well before that." Ryan frowned. Frank was small albeit muscular- even the already 'drunk' Ryan could probably have beaten him. So then what did Frank mean? What was this?

"Who's missing Ryan?" Frank hissed in response to the silence. Ryan cocked his head, confused. He hadn't seen Spencer- but then he hadn't seen Jon either.

A round of applause marked the end of Pete's speech and he stepped back into the crowds. As he dissolved into the space between Alex and Gabe he called out;

"Will anyone volunteer to take the place of either of the competitors?"

In a theatrical manner, there were several minutes of complete silence- before a low, slurred voice came from the corner of the room.

"I'll swap with Fr'nk."

The crowd parted round the voice to reveal an already obviously drunk Brendon Urie who was leaning up against a wall. He was even more dishevelled than before, his tie was now hanging around his shoulders and his shirt was almost completely undone- revealing the planes of his remarkably smooth chest. He was holding an empty bottle. Ryan turned to look at Frank, but he only saw an empty chair. Frank was already back with Gerard and Bob. There was a look of sympathy on his face- but also relief.

Oh. Ryan reeled backwards. This whole thing was a set up. He'd been expecting something like this, but not quite as blatant- and not for something so stupid. They'd all wanted him drunk for the sole purpose of getting him to do something gay. Making him a convert, as Helena had described it. But this was so direct it had been hard to see the simpler purpose behind it. They got someone who Ryan already trusted to get him slightly drunk to start with, then to challenge him. They knew he'd go along with it because he trusted Frank. But because Ryan was taller although not quite as muscular- they thought he might have been able to beat Frank. So, Brendon would take his place. No one would swap in for the new kid, so it would be certain that Ryan would have to out drink Brendon- or end up naked. He could always refuse to do it, but it was so perfect. It was a clash of the plans- so to speak.

If he ended up really drunk and Brendon semi naked- The guys could have their gay Ryan. If Brendon ended up really drunk and Ryan semi naked, Ryan had a drunk impressionable Brendon who might just be persuaded to talk. Ryan wasn't sure what he wanted more, the information- or to see Brendon shirtless. He shook his head. Information. Obviously.

Brendon sat down opposite him, having made a great show of dragging the chair away from the table slowly. He stared at Ryan.

"S'a lose, lose game Ryho. But one 'f us will end up n'ked." He tipped his chair backwards, seemingly unbothered. Ryan realised that he still had the upper hand. Everyone else still thought he was drunk himself. From their point of view it was still a fair game. Drunk Brendon vs. Drunk Ryan. In reality- this would be over soon, but not with the result everyone was expecting. A passed out Brendon- and considering Brendon's already inebriated state, Ryan with one less sock.

Pete laughed as Brendon leaned back in.

"Ready boys?" He called, as Ray returned. Brendon gave Pete a clumsy thumbs up, Ryan nodded, "Then- Go!"

Ray poured the first shot, passing it to Ryan. Ryan looked at it, gingerly tossed it back and shuddered for effect. Ray poured him another. Ryan looked at it, and slid it over to Brendon.

"Tie!" Pete shouted.

Ryan's long fingers fiddled with his green tie, removing it fairly easily. He let it fall to the ground. He watched as Brendon lifted the glass to his lips with shaking hands. Ryan analysed as much as he could as Brendon threw the liquid to the back of his throat. He was taller than Ryan, slightly bulkier. If he'd started sober it might have taken more- but from what he could see, Ryan estimated that he would win by the fifth shot Brendon took. He reckoned that personally he had about seven left before he became too drunk to think rationally. In fact, any more might be potentially lethal. Brendon took a second shot before rolling the glass back to Ryan. He ripped the remaining buttons of his shirt apart and aimed his tie at Alex. His gaze wandered around the room amicably, he was subject to several wolf whistles.

It was sickening Ryan decided as he downed his second shot. He coughed slightly before letting Ray refill his glass., fumbling deliberately with the glass. Third shot. Again, the fiery liquid shot down his throat. Four. The glass rolled back across the table. Ryan took off his shoes. Six shots so far that evening.

"Boring!" Yelled Gabe. Ryan flipped his middle finger in the general direction of the voice. A chorus of 'Ooohs' went up from the crowd Brendon cocked his eyebrow and caught the glass before it rolled off the edge of the table.

He lifted his hand and pointed a slender finger at Ryan, his hand swayed and his head bobbed alarmingly. His eyes slid in and out of focus.

"The Problem," His head jerked up, "I said, the problem with you Ryro- is that you've forgott'n what subj'cts I do."

His head jerked backwards as he chucked the alcohol down his neck. Ryan thought hard. Music, Art, Drama- and another subject, probably Engli-. Oh. Drama, therefore acting. Therefore...Ryan's head snapped up. A bright eyed Brendon stared back, his back was straight, his hands perfectly steady- and his smile was malicious.

"Got you motherfucker." Brendon said, fixing Ryan with a hard glare. There was no trace of the smashed brendon from moments before.

Fuck, Ryan's head span. This meant he'd had six shots and Brendon had only had three. Bastards They'd planned this. The shirt, the tie, the goddamn bucket. All of it fake. Just so that Brendon would have an advantage when it came to getting Ryan naked. He wasn't sure if he was pleased or angry. They'd stripped him of all his advantages, the tables had turned. As cliché as it was. Motive aside, Ryan's competitive edge kicked in. This was no longer about the outcome, this was between him and the boy who had been acting like a dick ever since he'd got here, less than two days ago.

Ryan straightened up, cracked his knuckles and snatched the glass up from the table. He leaned in, keeping his voice low.

"Not yet Urie." Ryan watched as Ray filled the glass.

Ryan pushed the full glass back towards Brendon.

"Pass." He said. And took off his shirt.

* * *

><p>Yes, I updated. Try not to die of shock. Happy New Year :)<p> 


	10. Buckets and a half

Chapter Nine and a half – The end of the game.

Ryan placed his hands on the table, steadying himself. The six vodka shots were starting to take effect. Not that he was going to let Brendon see. After peeling off the incredibly tight black shirt, he was going to level the playing field- even if it meant stripping. As he watched Brendon swallow down his fourth helping of the acrid liquid he realised he had no clue how much time had passed since he'd been dragged into this party. He looked around for a clock, 5.40pm. Fuck, he wasn't one to deny himself the odd early evening drink- but 5.40?

The glass rolled over to his hemisphere of the table and Ryan watched as Brendon sharply kicked off his shoes. There was no messing about anymore. Ryan watched the well made loafers skid across the wooden floor, before diverting his attention back to the small glass. He rolled it back to Brendon, who smirked as Ryan pulled off his socks.

"Nice tactic you've got going on there Farro. Shame it won't work." Brendon rolled the glass right back, and proceeded to also strip his feet of socks.

"Fun though." Said Ryan, as Ray filled the shot glass. Ryan counted, he had two or three shots left before he was going to start to lose pretty much all sense of what was going on. Brendon could have up to seven, he now realised. Depending on how much he'd eaten beforehand. Which considering how well prepared he'd been, was likely to be a lot of bread. He cursed his competitive brain, and tossed his head back. Seven. He squeezed his eyes shut, registering the woozy sensation of not quite knowing what side of gravity you're on. The only clothing he had on now were his pair of ultra skinny jeans. Gerard had told him earlier that there was no point in even trying to fit underwear underneath them. He sighed heavily and pushed the glass towards Brendon.

A chorus of "Jeans, jeans, jeans!" had been taken up by the crowd and Ryan put his head in his hands- why did he come here. Why did Farro pick him. He looked up and caught Brendon's eyes. The chocolate brown eyes that stared back were cold.

"You've got until I drink this shot to take them off Ryan." He said in a less than compassionate tone. Ray poured the electric blue drink into the glass. Brendon picked it up.

"Give it back." Stuttered Ryan, the words forcing their way out of his heavy lips. Brendon raised an eyebrow before putting the glass back down. He slid it back, his hand over the top- making sure not to spill anything.

As Ryan reached out to grab the glass Brendon recoiled. Ryan registered a cheer somewhere as he drained the glass. Somewhere far off, it sounded as though it was underwater. Like the kitchen lighting. Ryan felt like he was inside a very thick bubble, the sound was almost getting through- but not quite. Only one word penetrated the bubble. It came from the man sitting opposite him.

Brendon had leant forwards, his mouth next to Ryan's ear.

"Gamma-hydroxybutyrate." He said, as Ryan hit the table, head first.

* * *

><p>I decided I couldn't leave you hanging any longer when it came to the last chapter. Things are getting interesting, no? I'll try and have a full next chapter up before Sunday- the draft I have of it is pretty...interesting. Until then... (Review my midget chapter fill?)<p> 


	11. Waves

Chapter Ten

Ryan breathed in sharply. It felt like he was breaking the surface of the sea after spending an eternity holding his breath. Bubbles popped in his ears, his limbs felt like dead weights and his head was pounding. He wrenched his eyes open, images swam into focus around him; a bed, a lamp, dark walls. Somewhere in the back of Ryan's mind recognised the setting as the dorm he shared with Brendon, with this realisation came a wave of horror. How had he ended up in his dorm? What had happened, why, when- how-

Ryan attempted to sit up, his head thumping madly. He wobbled- and fell out of his bed, the loud thud brought footsteps into the room. As Ryan slipped under the mind bubble he felt two strong arms drag him upright and place him back on the bed, a splash of water hit him in the face and his head jerked upright. The room slid abruptly into focus along with the silhouette of Brendon Urie, who was standing with one hand on his hip and a water bottle in the other.

"Nice of you to join me." Commented Brendon dryly, with one eyebrow raised. Ryan attempted to stand up again but he pitched forwards, falling down into the stronger boy's arms. Brendon sighed and pulled him up.

"Alright, come on. There's no use me explaining with you like this." Brendon hitched one of Ryan's arms around his shoulders and started to drag him towards the door, throwing the water bottle to the floor. Ryan started to protest but his words were lost in the pounding bass that could still be heard when Brendon dragged him into the corridor. Had he been more alert Ryan would have made the connection instantly, that the Party was still going on, instead he just slumped further into Brendon's chest. Brendon hauled Ryan down towards the end of the long passageway. When they were approximately three quarters of the way down Brendon kicked open a door into a different dorm. The smell of Abercrombie and Fitch cologne assaulted Ryan's' nostrils and it became instantly apparent that this was the room where Alex slept. The dorm was undeniably bigger than any other (Ryan had presumed Alex would get some perks) and there was an extra door in a corner that usually held a desk in the other rooms. When Brendon kicked the door open to reveal an ensuite wet room this confirmed his suspicions. Nepotism was alive and well at St Michaels.

Brendon shoved Ryan roughly into the room and turned on the light with a pull cord. He muttered to himself at the same time before pulling Ryan's body underneath the shower head and turning it on. Freezing spray covered the two of them, Brendon's replaced shirt getting soaked as he tipped Ryan's head into the water. Ryan coughed and spluttered but snapped upright. The shapes became more focussed and the lines of Brendon's face less fuzzy, he reached out, grasped at Brendon's sodden shirt and pulled him under the water. The other boy smirked and drew back his hand. Ryan didn't see the hit coming and when it connected with his face the force of the blow sent him sprawling across the tiles.

"God knows I've been itching to do that for a while," Brendon cracked his knuckles and easily dodged Ryan's pitiful attempt at a counter attack. "No you don't Ryan. Bad boy. You've just drunk a potentially lethal cocktail of Date rape drug and alcohol, so calm down before you go into cardiac arrest."

Ryan dragged a hand across his mouth and stared up at Brendon, the bastard had drugged him. This was totally not all part of his cunning 'Get Brendon to talk' plan. He pushed himself up on his arms, then onto his knees. Brendon smirked at the weaker boy.

"Any other night I'd relish the thought of you on your knees, but now," He grabbed Ryan and shoved him back under the water, his body pinning Ryan to the creamy tiles. "I'd rather you were in your right mind." He placed his hands around Ryan's face and pulled him up to meet his eyes.

"I just saved your ass, and you don't even know why." His eyes searched Ryan's face for any hint of coherence.

Ryan's brain was racing a mile a minute, or what felt like it to his still woozy brain. This boy could have killed him, with just a different dose or one more shot. There seemed to only be one action left. He took it. Extracting his arms, he layered his hands on top of Brendon's and leaned in to brush his lips against the corner of Brendon's mouth.

Brendon protested in the form of a grunt but soon redoubled his effort to subdue Ryan, pressing his lips squarely against the slimmer boy's weaker mouth. He pushed in closer, squeezing out all of the air between their two bodies. Ryan couldn't focus on anything other than the breath being crushed from him, it wasn't long before Ryan was gasping. He worked his hands to Brendon's chest and pushed hard.

At his full strength he might have been able to push Brendon backwards maybe a foot or so, but in his current state Brendon barley shifted under his hands. To Ryan's surprise, and relief, Brendon moved backwards of his own accord. The kiss had been nothing more than skin on skin. Brendon wiped the water from his face absentmindedly.

"I drugged you because I didn't think it was fair. Getting you incredibly drunk just so they could force you to do something you didn't want to do?" He shook his head, "That wasn't fair. If you had put up resistance to the game I might have pulled you out of it earlier, but you seemed to be fine so I didn't, then I realised you were just being stupid."

Ryan frowned. What was this?

Brendon laughed hollowly "You didn't even mind that we were forcing alcohol down your throat? God Ryan, by the time I slipped you that drug you only had two options left; Alcohol poisoning or stripping in front of the whole year and then some. So I created a third option."

"Which was?" Ryan asked, slumping against the tiled wall.

"Slipping the tablet into the shot, and then using very elementary reverse psychology to convince you to drink it- meaning you'd pass out on the table. Which you did. That signalled an end to the game, everyone else thought you'd passed out from the alcohol." Brendon raised an eyebrow, "I hauled you upstairs under false pretences and dumped you on your bed."

Ryan scrunched up his face, he couldn't tell if it was the drugs- but Brendon still wasn't making complete sense. He raised a hand to his face and wiped his wet hair backwards.

"I still don't see why?" He trailed off expectantly.

Brendon sighed and moved back in; he placed his hands on the wall around Ryan's head, trapping him.

"No, you don't see," He cocked his head to the side, "I suppose telling you wouldn't be too much of an issue- considering one of the benefits of the fabulous drug I slipped you is that it's an amnesiac."

Ryan's stomach dropped, he was about as strong as newborn kitten, Brendon could take him anywhere, have him do anything and he wouldn't remember. He suppressed a panicked whine; after all, he couldn't afford to show any weakness now. He attempted to straighten his back against the wall.

Brendon chuckled at the visible change in Ryan and shook his head, "I'd still beat you in a fight Ryan, but never mind." He leant right into Ryan's face and whispered, "I saved you because my father doesn't need to have any more people than necessary asking questions- and what he absolutely doesn't need is some kid's parents turning up to find their son dying of alcohol poisoning. There is far too much at stake."

Ryan realised this was fairly key information. What Brendon had just revealed confirmed his suspicions that it was Mr Urie, father of this giant dickhead, who had something to hide. What Brendon had also revealed was that he knew what it was that was being hidden. He tried to lock this information away in his head, if what Brendon was saying was true and that he would remember none of this the next day, he wanted to remember that one fact. He thought back to his dorm, and the makeup that was still spread out all over the small corner desk. In his mind he assigned the fact to the eyeliner pencil propped up against the mirror. Hopefully the memory would be triggered every time he was stabbed in the eye with the thing.

There was a small silence between the two boys. The bright, calm, white bathroom was a contrast to the heaving chest of Ryan Ross. He was still propped against the wall, water cascading over his chest. He briefly wondered what had happened to the rest of his clothes, considering all he was wearing were his now soaked through jeans. His head felt as though the rest of the St Michaels boys had moved the party to the inside of his cranium. Brendon loomed over him, still trapping him most effectively. His strong muscled arms were clearly defined by the clinging white shirt that was rapidly turning transparent. His jeans were equally soaked and clung to his legs as he moved them in to press against Ryan's. He moved his face closer to the weaker boys and Ryan watched as individual water droplets fell from the mess of brown hair that now plastered Brendon's face.

"Well, well Ryan. What on earth are we going to do now?" Brendon moved one hand down from the place it had been occupying beside Ryan's ear. It trailed its way down the wall before coming to rest on Ryan's hip, "I've probably saved your life tonight and all you've done to me is try to hurt me." He cocked an eyebrow, "That's not very fair is it?" He moved the opposite arm down to rest on the other side of Ryan's body. His large brown eyes didn't leave Ryan's as he moved one of his broad hands to Ryan's chest. Ryan stayed completely still, whilst the touch wasn't harsh it was unsettling. When Brendon's hand started to travel south he frowned and tried to wriggle away. The hand that wasn't toying with the waistband of Ryan's jeans kept him pinned to the wall. Brendon leant his head in close to Ryan's neck and whispered his voice just audible over the still rushing water.

"It could technically be an assault, but you would just enjoy it wouldn't you?" When Ryan grunted in protest Brendon chuckled, the noise sent vibrations through Ryan's neck.

"Oh come on Ryan, you're not _that_good an actor. You can pretend to be straight all you want. Doesn't make it true" Ryan actually laughed at that. Of course he was straight, he liked tits. He dragged his head up higher, and spoke quite clearly.

"Whatever asshole, never in my 20 and a bit years have I decided I want to fuck another guy." He allowed himself another weak chuckle.

Brendon had the good grace to step backwards. He frowned.

"You actually think you-" He laughed loudly and stepped back another couple of feet, "Oh my God!" He shook his head, spraying water droplets everywhere, "You really haven't noticed your own suppressed homosexuality have you?" In seconds he had Ryan re-pinned against the tiled wall of the bath room. Ryan was about to protest again when Brendon covered his mouth with his own for the second time. This kiss was nothing like the first, it was animalistic. There was no trace of compassion in the way Brendon licked into Ryan's mouth and raked his hands down the older boy's chest. There was no give and take in this, it was simply Brendon. Brendon is everywhere. Taking up every one of Ryan's senses. He'd got his hands so far wrapped around Ryan's chest that Ryan thought he could feel his fingertips on his heart, the taste of Brendon was hot in his mouth and the noises leaving his mouth ought to be illegal. When Brendon stopped and stepped away Ryan let out a high keening noise before he could stop himself. Brendon smirked at him from under dark, rapidly curling hair. He reached up and moved the dial on the shower. The tepid spray started to warm up, the room started to steam.

Brendon moved slowly towards Ryan, whose eyes were losing focus once more. His eyes shot up when Brendon tugged his jeans down to his knees. The wrench of wet denim against skin burned, but nothing like the heat on his face. He was fully exposed to Brendon and the part that shocked him was that he didn't want to be anywhere else.

"Going commando Farro?" muttered Brendon, "Classy." He placed his hands lightly around Ryan's shoulders before trailing them down his body parallel to each other. They glossed over the creamy white chest of a man who spent too much time indoors; they skimmed over ribs and jumped over hip bones. Brendon hunched his back and his fingers flew over the skin of Ryan's upper thigh and then stopped to caress the knee joint. He lifted his chin slightly to catch Ryan's eyes, Ryan hadn't been able to drag his gaze away. Brendon licked his lips and Ryan decided instantly that lips like that ought to be outlawed immediately. Brendon dropped to his knees and Ryan watched as the hot water pounded against his back. Brendon kept eye contact as he loosely fisted Ryan's cock. Ryan threw his head backwards and let out a low moan. This could not be happening.

Brendon tightened his grip on Ryan's cock and used his other hand to pin Ryan's hips firmly to the tiled wall. Then parting his hence forth outlawed lips, he took the head of Ryan's cock into his mouth, and started to work his way down, painfully slowly, inch by inch.

Ryan stared as Brendon slid his mouth about half-way down and started working his mouth and hand together. Ryan's hips started to buck off the wall but Brendon's grip didn't let them, and a sense of frustration started to course through Ryan. He was painfully close, yet aware of Brendon judging his every move. Brendon lifted off with a soft, wet, popping sound; his lips red. He alternated the strokes of his hand; soft, hard, light, strong. Ryan bit back a 'fuck' as Brendon increased his pace. Brendon straightened his legs, bringing him back to full height. Ryan could tell he was revelling in the look of agonised suspense gracing his normally impassive face.

"How straight are we now Ryan?" Brendon asked over the choked off moans from the man beneath him. He crushed his body even closer to Ryan's, never losing his rhythm. He moved his mouth to Ryan's neck, sucking at the soft skin over his collar bones. Ryan's moans trebled in volume and his head tipped backwards onto the white tiles. Brendon moved back to the side of Ryan's head and whispered,

"You said you'd never thought about fucking another guy but did you ever stop to think that you might be the one getting fucked?"

He bit down on Ryan's collar bone and watched as the newest addition to the centre of prestigious education they both resided in, came apart in his hands with a guttural moan that was almost a scream. Ryan shuddered violently as Brendon's fingers danced lightly over his body. There had been nothing delicate about this. Nothing, yet Ryan felt as though he was floating above everything. Brendon hummed against his neck.

"We'll save that for next time though," He smirked, "The sad part is you won't even remember this. It is an unfortunate side effect, memory loss, but never mind. I'll go back to hating you and you can continue to try and fit in and pretend you don't want to fuck me in every classroom twice." He turned off the shower with a flick of his wrist above Ryan's head and stepped lightly backwards. Brendon took a towel from a nearby rail and wrapped it around a still panting Ryan.

"Of course, you're straight anyway, so the thought would never even cross your mind." There was a hint of bitterness that Ryan couldn't quite pin down, which wasn't surprising in his drugged, inebriated and pleasure sparked state.

The spy slumped into his arms, the effort of moving becoming all too much for his overwhelmed senses. As the world swirled around Ryan like the acrylic paint of one of his Rose canvas' he repeated the words "Brendon knows about the money" over and over in his mind like some form of Mantra. The last thing he saw before the world went black for the second time that night was the door of Alex' dorm

He dreamt of the party, He ran around the common room opening doors, a sense of panic flooding through his mind although he knew not why. He wrenched open a heavy door that opened into a white room, a wave of water rushed out of the room and over his head. Somewhere a bell started to chime.

Ryan opened his eyes slowly to the sound of his mobile going off, the shrill ring tone causing his head to pound. He brushed his hands over his face and swung his legs out of bed. A mounting panic gripped his slight frame as he realised he wasn't in his pyjamas. As he stood up a fluffy, white, monogrammed towel slipped of his body and onto the ground. Ryan reached for it and squeaked as he read the initials 'AG'. Why had he woken up in his dorm wearing nothing but one of Alex Gaskarth's towels? Ryan reached blindly for his phone in the half light whilst he rummaged through his mind trying to work out what the hell had happened to him.

The display on the phone read:

'Incoming call from 'Dad'!'

Fuck. Ryan raked a hand through still damp hair and breathed slowly. Why did he feel so filthy when he had clearly been submersed in water some hours previously? What the hell was he supposed to tell Farro? He unlocked the phone and held it to his ear.

"Hello?" He said stiffly, as Brendon Urie rolled over in the bed opposite his.

* * *

><p>Love as always, thank you for reading this piece of crap. x<p>

(Hi Rosy, welcome to the fandom)


	12. Towels

_**AN: I know, I hate me too. I promise not to leave it so long next time x**_

Chapter 12

"Ah, hello Ryan. How are you?" Said a gruff voice from the other end of the line. Somewhere at HQ Ryan could imagine Farro sitting behind his desk awkwardly thinking of what to say. Ryan threw a look over to Brendon's bed, the sleeping boy had turned his back towards Ryan- but he wasn't taking any chances.

"Alright thanks Dad, you woke me up actually. I'm in my dorm with Brendon- my roommate?" Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think of a way to have this conversation without tipping off Brendon. It should be fairly easy- provided Farro picked up on his insinuations.

"Your roommate? I trust the room has been thoroughly bugged and searched Ryan." Ryan was about to protest to the language, before he realised that obviously Brendon couldn't hear Farro. He slapped a palm to his head. Get a grip Ryan. His hands were sweaty as he clenched the phone to his ear and sank back onto his bead.

"Haha, yeah. I've got it under control Dad, don't worry. I haven't had a chance to have a proper look round yet though" Obvious enough, Ryan thought.

"Ryan, it is imperative that you get this information. We received another donation only yesterday. Hence my call to you. Did anyone seem to be acting strangely?" Ryan snorted. Farro certainly didn't beat about the proverbial shrubbery. Ryan put on his best patronising son tone,

"Everyone seems great Dad, nothing weird here. Honest." He smiled, but the happiness was short lived. He knew that Farro was not going to be pleased that Ryan had made no headway at all.

"Ok Ryan, I'll hand you over to Helena. She wants to keep updated on this case. She has the clearance so feel free to insinuate anything about the case if you feel it relevant."

"Ok, Bye Dad, Love you." Ryan shuddered. Ew. He heard the phone being passed to another set of hands before the shrill voice of Helena rang in his ears.

"Ryan?"

"Hey Mum! How are you?" Ryan smiled into the phone, real enthusiasm at hearing her voice. She made him feel a little more grounded, he knew what to expect with her.

"Alright Ross, I miss your face obviously. How is everything down that way? Been hit on yet?" There was a low chuckle from Helena. Ryan failed to see the funny side, but decided he would let Helena know that yes, he had been subject to some...unwanted advances.

"You too Mum, everything's fine- don't fuss. I have yeah, nothing interesting though." Ryan raised an eyebrow as he thought about the past two days. His stomach clenched with fear when he realised his second night at the school was a complete blur. He tuned back in to Helena's chattering and tried to calm himself listening to her voice. The question she asked did nothing to soothe his nerves.

"Have you picked up any information yet?" Helena's voice was casual, but Ryan could almost see Farro standing in front of her holding up pieces of paper with what to say. He cast around for any information that would be worth giving her.

"No I- Oh. Um, I don't..." Ryan kneaded his forehead and listened to a shuffling noise on the other end of the phone. Moments later, Farro was back on the phone.

"Ryan you need to get this information! Concentrate. No matter how attractive the students are" His tone of voice surprised Ryan more than anything. It wasn't angry, more disappointed. Any child who has ever been told that their parents are 'disappointed in them' knows how much worse that feels. Ryan wrestled with his mind, forcing it to think about everything he'd done so far, but what good was that when he could even remember most of it? He sighed; there was no way around it. He'd have to come clean; he would also have to move a bit further away from Brendon.

Ryan shuffled in his towel to the corner of the room and sat down on the clothing-covered chair that was normally shoved up against the desk. He leant heavily on the wood and smiled slightly when he registered all of the makeup products Helena had packed were still scattered around on the papers that littered the desk. He was about to launch into an apology/explanation when the pencil eyeliner that was poking out of the otherwise empty makeup bag caught his eye. The smile disappeared as a fuzzy memory slid into place. Gabe, a sensation of people and noise- and the colour blue. Ryan sucked in a breath.

"Wait- something just, I think there was a party last night" He whispered it, and looked round to see Brendon blearily rubbing his eyes with his hands. Helena's voice cut through over Farro's, they must have put him on loudspeaker Ryan realised.

"You think- Ryan, what's going on?" Helena sounded panicky; she knew him well so it wouldn't be a surprise to him if she had picked up the underlying uncertainty in his words. Ryan raked a hand aggressively through his hair and watched as Brendon's eyes started to flicker open.

"Yeah, well I can't exactly, I'll call you back" He threw the phone onto his bed and just caught the end of "Ross!" that was presumably Farro.

Ryan froze and watched as Brendon gazed at the ceiling for a while before rolling back to face the wall. Ryan waited and listened as Brendon's breathing settled down and after a minute or two he was sure his roommate was asleep. Ryan let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. This was not good. His immediate reaction was to ring up Helena and talk to her about it, but Farro would just get involved and he couldn't have that, not when he was so obviously fucked.

Ryan cast around for another name, someone he could trust. Was there anyone? He had arrived on the Thursday and since then had met everyone in his year and several teachers, of that number the only two people he felt himself trusting were Frank and Spencer. He calmed down significantly when he realised they were both just across the hall. Ryan gathered himself, it was now 8am one the Saturday and he was wearing a towel. Would it be socially acceptable to just march over there and demand to know what happened last night?

At 8:05 after some mental preparation, Ryan knocked on the door of the dorm opposite- still wrapped from the armpits down, in Alex' fluffy towel. Spencer opened the door, looked Ryan up and down and dragged him into the room. Ryan looked around the dorm briefly and noticed instantly which bed belonged to who, mainly because the shirt Jon had been wearing the previous day was on one bed, and pictures of Frank were plastered above the other.

"Ryan, what _happened _to you?" Spencer was working himself up, "I tried to get something out of Frank but he and the Band guys just fucked off to the waffle house in town and then I knocked on your door but I couldn't hear you and Brendon wasn't around which is normal, but Frank looked like he was going to cry- explain!"

Ryan sighed and sank down onto Frank's bed, comforted by the fact that at least someone was worried about him.

"I really don't know," He said softly, "I can't remember anything." Spencer frowned. Several emotions crossed his face; anger, worry and confusion. There was a lot of worry mixed in and Ryan felt weirdly happy to be telling someone about this and that the particular someone was taking it seriously. It was scaring him enough that his own brain was letting him down.

Spencer sat on the edge of his own bed and leant towards Ryan conspiratorially, "Ok, as you may have guessed- I was with Jon last night," Ryan only then took in Spencer's dishevelled appearance and put the shirt on the bed and Spencer's lack of shirt together. He nodded.

"Okay, so I wasn't here for the party at all. So I can't tell you what happened, it was a dick move of me not to be there for your first party- especially after you've been so nice to me-" Ryan cut him off with a wave of his hand. Spencer smiled guiltily.

"It's okay," Ryan replied to his unspoken apology "I guess if you could help me make sense of this?" Spencer nodded. He could do that.

"Ok Ry, what's the last thing you remember about yesterday. It's probably not as bad as you think." Spencer didn't sound convinced- but Ryan thought hard. He remembered finding that kid smoking in the bushes after he finished setting up the tech, he remembered being dragged inside. Bits started to float back into place. He remembered that girl with the hair and the lip ring that Frank didn't like. Cassie maybe?

Ryan's heart leapt into his throat as he remembered Ray pouring his first drink. He gulped and looked up at Spencer.

"I think I might have got really, really drunk."

Spencer grimaced, "That sucks dude but at lea-" Spencer cut himself off this time and didn't try to hide his anger when he growled; "You didn't have to sit opposite someone whilst they gave you alcohol and took their clothes off did you?"

Ryan looked up and nodded as more of the evening slid back into place. Fuck. Brendon, shots, drunk, drama, drinking and then-

"They tricked me into playing with Brendon, who acted really drunk already to throw me off and make me think I could win, but he wasn't really, and I'd been doing that earlier so the guys would leave me alone faster because then I could..." he trailed off realising what he was about to say.

It was so easy to talk to Spencer, so easy he'd almost blown his cover- and the entire operation. Spencer just looked at him for several moments; the anger fell off his face when he read the genuine worry on Ryan's face. It was another occasion where Ryan was surprised to note he had to say surprisingly little to get Spencer to understand.

Ryan sighed, "We kept drinking and I remember taking off my shirt and Brendon throwing his tie at someone, but after that...it's all sort of fuzzy."

"Well, there's not much we can do about it now," Spencer put a comforting hand on Ryan's bare shoulder, "but we can work out what happened okay?" Ryan lifted his head hopefully,

"We?" He wasn't used to anyone helping him, Ryan had got pretty used to doing everything for, and by, himself. Spencer tilted his head and frowned, but there was a slight smile playing around his lips.

"Of course, isn't that what friends do?" He laughed at the look of surprise on Ryan's face, "Ry, in case you hadn't noticed we have some creepy empathetic mind meld going on, I've told you about my secret illegal boyfriend and trusted you enough to not tell anyone else. I think at this point I might be doing you a social injustice to not call you my friend."

Ryan chuckled, he guessed Spencer was right.

"Thanks Spence," He smiled, slipping into that nickname with ease, "Um, do you mind if I hang out with you today? It's just I don't really..."

Spencer nodded, "Sure. Hey- you haven't really been introduced to Bill and Gabe have you?" When Ryan shook his head Spencer gave a satisfied nod, "Okay then, that's the plan of action. We'll attack Gabe and Billiam for information. Gabe was DJing and Bill was probably there if anything _did_ happen, so they'll know. If not, we'll ask Pete." He nodded again, confirming the plan.

Ryan relaxed; Spencer seemed to have things pretty well under control even if he didn't. It was funny. Working for the CIA was great for building certain 'life skills'- but it was not a great career for anyone who valued social connections. They agreed to meet in the common room in half an hour and then search the school for the two boys, if they weren't still in U2 block.

"We should probably start by knocking on all of the dorm doors in this block," Spencer laughed as Ryan gathered his towel and made for the door, "I bet even a newcomer like you have worked out what most of the boys are like."

When Ryan pushed open the door to his dorm he was surprised to see Brendon's bed empty and made. He thought back to what Spencer had said only moments previously, he did know what most of the 'boys' were like -even his limited experiences with Bill and Gabe had left him with a certain opinion of them. He'd character profiled all of them, except Brendon.

He sighed, and dragged on a fresh pair of navy jeans, and the tight white t-shirt from his first day that still faintly smelled of Helena's perfume. He realised, as he reached for the hair gel, that his hands were no longer shaking. He smiled to himself; you couldn't help but love Spencer Smith.

* * *

><p>I know, calm down, try not to have a heart attack. This is a chapter. I think I'm sort of back. I know where the next chapter is going, and the one after that. Thank you so much for your endless support over this thing.<p>

Guilt tripping me seems to be the best way of making me update, so feel free to PM me telling me how rubbish and mean I am!

Love as always, Kat x

(shameless self promotion- I have a published Ryden oneshot up that I finished recently, check it out?)


	13. Duvets

Chapter 13

Just about half an hour... and a lot of hastily applied hair gel and badly applied eyeliner later, Ryan walked into the common room feeling a lot more relaxed about the situation. He was grateful for the vaguely reassuring words from Spencer...sure he was shaking again, but at least he'd stopped jumping at small noises. Spencer leapt up off the sofa nearest to the kitchen door and moved to Ryan's side.

"looks like I missed one hell of a party" he snickered. It was only then that Ryan took in his surroundings fully; there were several unidentifiable bodies passed out in corners, all with blankets over them. Gabe's stuff was packed into a corner in black boxes covered in blue cups and mismatched clothes. Ryan could still smell the sweat and alcohol. Spencer sniffed;  
>"I checked the guys, none of them are ours. Ray probably covered them up after shutting up the bar last thing," he grabbed Ryan's arm, "C'mon I was waiting for you to get down here, we should check the dining room next" Ryan followed obediently as Spencer dragged him through the wooden double doors into the large room. Ryan didn't look up for fear of what he might see, instead he looked at the nice safe ground.<p>

"Why do I think you've had to search for someone after a party before?" Ryan said hesitantly as he picked up a sock from the floor and inspected it curiously.

Spencer gave a hollow laugh. "Gerard, last code red, most of us were looking for him" Spencer trailed off and Ryan thought he wanted to add more but thought better of it. Spencer shook his head. He snatched the sock out of Ryan's hand.  
>"That's one of Bills I think", he sniffed it. "Yep, smells like teen spirit all right" he coughed and flung it back to the floor.<p>

"On the right trail then." Ryan laughed nervously, looking up at Spencer who was looking at the centre of the room. Ryan followed his gaze and had to grab onto Spencer's arm to stop falling over. Memories of the night before came smashing back in glorious Technicolor. Clothes piled on tables, Brendon leaning in a corner, Huge crowds, Frank bailing on him, Ray and the mysterious blue liquid.

"Ryan...dude?" Spencer was shaking his shoulder, "You okay?"  
>Ryan nodded and looked around the room again, the superimposed memories sliding away to reveal the large table, still pressed against the wall and the smaller table and chairs he had been seated at the previous evening still in the centre of the room. Cups were scattered everywhere and the clothing left on the floor and table could have stocked a small branch of Primark. Or Armani, knowing the financial state of most of the students. Spencer kicked his way past the mess and beckoned Ryan to follow.<br>"No one in here, probably not in the kitchen either...but you never know. Most people move to the common room by 11, dares get boring pretty quick."  
>They looked quickly around the kitchen but Spencer was right, nothing of interest. Ryan grabbed a bag of crisps from one of the cupboards that hadn't been raided and tried to eat them without throwing up. He was so used to being in control of situations, so used to knowing what to do and how to use his training. Having the better part of a day erased from his mind was playing havoc with his world view. Spencer stood against a counter and sighed.<br>"Okay, no one downstairs. Bob, Ray, Frank, Gerard and Mikey are still out at breakfast, You and I are here leaving Pete, Gabe, Bill, Brendon, Alex and Jack unaccounted for," He scratched the day old stubble on his chin, "Looks like we have to start knocking on doors." Ryan was less than enthusiastic, but he agreed. The sooner he got this mess sorted out the sooner he could ring Farro and proceed with the mission without worrying someone had compromised him.

They trudged back to the stairs, Spencer stopping to let a few people stagger out of U2 block. As they walked Spencer quizzed Ryan some more. By the time they reached the floor above they had five solid questions to ask anyone they could find; Why did Brendon choose to play Ryan, What happened during the game, What happened after the game, Why was Ryan's hair wet and Jesus almighty, why was he wearing one of Alex' towels?  
>Ryan ducked into his room to grab his phone and as an afterthought he looked for the aforementioned towel to give back, but couldn't see it, just his messily made bed... but no towel. He went out to meet Spencer who was on the phone, presumably to John judging by the conversation. Spencer laughed, said goodbye and put his phone back into his pocket.<br>"Wanted to know if I was going to join him for lunch, it being Saturday and all." He smiled.

Ryan shrugged and smiled back, disappointed but understanding, "If you want to go man, that's fine. I can always do some work and unpack some more-

"Spencer cut him off with a wave of his hand; "Firstly, it's only about 10am anyway and secondly I'm helping you. I already bailed on you last night and look where that got you. Honestly its fine," He smirked, "So, are you going to knock on Alex and Jack's door or am I?"As it turned out, neither of them did; moments later Jack stuck his head round the dorm door at the end of the corridor before walking sleepily towards them. He would have walked straight into Spencer and Ryan had Spencer not grabbed his shoulders and shaken him awake.

"What gives?" Jack murmured sleepily, weakly slapping at Spencer's hands. Ryan decided that if he wanted any information drastic action might have to be taken. A quick slap to the back of the head later and Jack was awake and bitching.

"Jesus Ryan, I'm getting Alex his waffles no need to attack me." He rubbed the back of his head, "Nice hit though you should go talk to Bob about- hey," He looked up sharply "What happened last night?" Ryan blushed for a bit and waved his hands about before Spencer stepped in to help.

"Ryan was so drunk he can't remember what happened. Real lightweight our boy Ryan, funny huh so how about you tell us what happened right now sound good?" All of this was delivered in a monotone and seemed to have the desired effect. Jack frowned but nodded.

"Okay, uh...the party was going fine, Anderson was passed out on one of the chairs and the girls had just go there...Ryan got dragged in, Gabe dragged him about a bit..." Spencer gestured for him to talk faster and he sighed;  
>"He ended up playing Brendon at S and S because of Alex's dumb plan to convert Ryan or what-the-fuck ever." He turned to Ryan, "believe me, what your dick gets up to is your business and shouldn't have anything to do with us. Anyway, Brendon acted really drunk to throw Ryan off, make it seem easier and make Ryan more complacent, get him to drink more. Then he dropped the act half way through and they started really going for it. Ryan was down to just his jeans before he passed out. Brendon did a victory lap or two and then hauled his skinny ass upstairs. They all assumed you'd last longer and we'd get a few decent rounds of spin the bottle out of you...but apparently it wasn't to be" He paused and shot a look at Ryan. "We kind of all thought Brendon had finally broken his vow of celibacy and fucked you into a mattress somewhere."<br>Ryan froze. That hadn't even occurred to him. His most panicked thought was that someone would have asked him about his background or past, but surely Brendon wouldn't have...that would be new low for anyone. Spencer again saved Ryan from having to talk.

"Thanks Jack, big help. Are you missing a towel by the way?" Spencer raised an eyebrow at the slim man in the Lacoste pyjamas. Ryan unfroze just in time to re-freeze. Jack didn't seem to notice.

"Nope, don't think so. We have five each and all ten were there when I went to the bathroom a minute ago." He shrugged, "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Spencer smiled, "Go and make the beauty Queen his waffles." Jack went to hit him and thought better of it, instead he gave Ryan a nod before walking past them and padding his way down the rest of the corridor.

Spencer turned to Ryan as he left, his face the picture of confusion.

"So now we know you passed out, Brendon brought you upstairs, You somehow ended up Alex and Jack's en suite and then back in your bed – with no recollection of any of it." Ryan had to agree, this was getting weirder and weirder. Also, since when did these rooms have bathrooms? He knew there were a couple of bathrooms downstairs and a shower block out back, but even so. His shock at this fact was suppressed by his overbearing worry that Brendon had done something. If he was that drunk that he passed out and couldn't remember a thing...then there was a chance...

"Not a chance." Spencer said from beside him. "I know Brendon and he is not the type. He would ask, or at least wait until you'd given some form of indication you liked; the Brendon I know is not like that. He's a gentleman." Ryan shot a look at him. "Honest, and anyway he hates you- and the relationship Brendon was in last...didn't exactly end well." Spencer stopped and smiled sadly.

"You know a lot about people, huh?" Ryan asked, still hovering half way along the corridor.

Spencer chuckled, "I guess, yeah. Doesn't take a genius to figure most stuff out. Some travels up through other years, but yeah...I suppose I know a lot."  
>Ryan raised an eyebrow back at him and Spencer sighed dramatically. "Fiiine, but only because you're awesome and need cheering up." He cleared his throat, "Spencer is going out with Jon and it's going great thanks, Alex and Jack are pretty solid. Mikey and Gerard are abnormally close but Gerard is still hung up on Bert and can't see how much Frank is in love with him. Bob is the butchest guy I know and I think he might like some of the girls from St F but also Ray a little and maybe Bill. Ray adores Bob but Mikey totally likes Ray when Gerard isn't around. Of course, when Gerard isn't around Mikey likes everybody. Pete is a hooker and pretty hard to read but I reckon he's heading for a breakdown, sleeps with Bill a lot. Bill sleeps around in our year but not any others, Gabe is a manwhore but a dedicated one and I wouldn't put money on it but I reckon him and Bill might develop a thing sometime soon because they have a freaky mind meld like us." He breathed in. "As far as I can tell, everyone just wants to prove you're gay but I reckon we'll get more out of Bill or Pete on that if we can find them." With that, Spencer set off down the corridor towards the double doors at the end.<br>Ryan's eyebrows shot up and he stood still for a minute, before striding to catch up with Spencer.

"What about Brendon?" he asked as Spencer was about to open a door that bore the label 'Pete Wentz & Jack Barakat'. Ryan frowned some more when he saw the little brass plaque, "I thought Jack and Alex were in the same room?" Spencer nodded. "Unofficially, yep. Gabe crashes here and Jack goes over to Alex-" Spencer looked like he was about to add more but when he turned the handle and the door, instead of being locked, fell open, he stopped. Ryan peered around him and really wished he hadn't.

"What can we do you for Spence?" Gabe asked breathlessly from one of the beds as someone further down the bed, covered by the duvet, was moving. Up and down.

"Gabe, I am not holding a conversation with you whilst some poor helpless victim is sucking you off. That would be rude." Spencer stared at the ceiling pointedly. Ryan, again fuelled by a desire to understand what happened the previous evening, had no such reservations. Uncharacteristically bold, he moved round the door and sat on the empty bed next to Gabe's. The head continued to bob up and down. Gabe fluttered his eyelids and then looked at Ryan.

"Sup new kid?" He laughed, then moaned.

Ryan pulled a face. Ew. He cleared his throat before answering, his mouth suddenly thick. "How much did I drink last night and do you know what happened after Brendon dragged me off?" Short and to the point. Gabe shot him a pained look.

"I was the DJ, I wasn't even in the room, remember?" When he saw the answering look on Ryan's face he understood, "I'm guessing you don't remember." Suddenly his head flew back and he groaned, he then slapped the head of whoever was down there, through the duvet. "I'm trying to answer his question Bill. That is bad blowjob etiquette, no tongue until they're gone." The bobbing stopped. Gabe patted the duvet lump gently and then his face lit up; "Were you watching him babe? How many drinks?" He paused for a good ten seconds before looking at Ryan, "Seven vodka shots and a glass of tequila."

Spencer grimaced from the doorway, "I do not want to know how he told you that."

Gabe just laughed as Ryan made for the corridor. As he moved his sense of horror redoubled. He knew his limits, and what he'd drunk was nowhere near enough to make him black out and lose his goddamn memory, this was not good, he hunched over, staring at the floor. His next conversation with Farro was not going to be a happy one.

"Clearly didn't think to come looking for me?" A low voice from next to him made Ryan snap upright. Brendon had just left the library carrying a stack of books, his hair flopping over his eyes; he reached Ryan and cocked his head, questioning. Ryan just flapped his mouth open and shut, hoping for the thousandth time that day that the ground would open up and swallow him whole. Thankfully Spencer chose that moment to slam the door of Pete's dorm shut and step into the corridor.

"Christ Ry, you could have waited for me I think I saw enough- Oh," He paused to look at the two boys; Ryan gaping at Brendon, who was staring at him blankly from over a stack of English texts. Brendon didn't appear to register Spencer as he continued to stare at Ryan who was growing increasingly anxious. Luckily it seemed Brendon was happy to fill the now awkward silence. He rolled his large brown eyes impatiently.

"Of course Ryan, I'd be delighted to fill you in on what happened last night thank you for asking. You passed out, I brought you upstairs and took you into Alex's room, hosed you down to bring you back to semi-consciousness and then wrapped you in one of Alex towels to sleep in, which I returned to his room earlier this morning after you left and before they woke up." He paused, "And now, if you don't mind, I have several essays to be getting on with." The tall youth pushed passed Ryan who watched as he paced down the corridor, opened their dorm room with his foot and slammed the door behind him.

"Believe him?" asked Spencer, his hand on Ryan's shoulder and a frown on his face, "I mean, it is Brendon but-"

"Not for a second." Ryan replied as his brain kicked into spy mode.

* * *

><p>I KNOW OKAY. DON'T EAT ME.<p>

...happy christmas?...


	14. Cuddles

Chapter 14

Ten minutes later saw Spencer and Ryan back in the common room. They had both watched Brendon disappear but Spencer was the first to move. He had dragged Ryan downstairs and shoved him onto a sofa before making two huge mugs of good coffee.

Ryan accepted the steaming mug gratefully and watched as Spencer sank into an armchair opposite. He still marvelled at the fact that Spencer was the only boy in the whole school who seemed capable of growing any facial hair. He clearly hadn't shaved recently and the stubble was building up. Spencer brought a hand up and waved it in front of Ryan's face.

"Okay, I know my beard is fascinating but we have rather more pressing issues here," Ryan nodded apologetically and took another gulp of coffee. Spencer rolled his eyes.

"Okay, seeing as you seem shocked into silence I'll provide a summary. You got drunk, you passed out, Brendon took you upstairs, Brendon hauled you into a shower and hosed you down, somewhere along those lines your clothes disappeared and you woke up in a towel."

Ryan nodded grimly. The fact that Brendon had seen him naked had been apparent for some time now, he was almost over it. It was the fact that he'd passed out that was the problem. He could have told anyone anything and he wouldn't remember it. He could have blown the entire operation and not realised, what he didn't get- was how he could have passed out. Spencer appeared to be thinking along the same lines as him and picked up where Ryan's brain had left off.

"What I don't get," he mused, furrowing his eyebrows, "Is how you passed out. I mean, a glass of tequila and seven vodka shots? That's a lot in a short space of time...but not enough to make you pass out and not remember anything, right?"

Ryan nodded again, he knew his limits, and that wasn't close.

"So what do we do?" He muttered, hoping Spencer would pull something fantastical out of the bag, a way of getting Brendon to talk.

Getting Brendon to talk. But what if Brendon had been talking? Ryan froze as he remembered the bug he had placed under the lampshade in their shared room. If Brendon had said anything incriminating- or if _he_ had said anything...he could find out. There was a loop on the mic that deleted at midnight every day, but providing he checked it before he went to bed- he might go to sleep feeling a little more aware of his surroundings. He tried to keep his face clear and sat up straighter.

"Or maybe it doesn't matter. You know? What's done is done." He smiled. Spencer wasn't buying it and looked distinctly confused. He only had time to open his mouth before the common room sprang into life. Ryan turned around towards the sound of the shouting.

The front doors opened to admit Frank, Gerard, Bob, Mikey and Ray who all looked like they'd broken up with each other, twice. Frank looked particularly angry. Ray muttered something to Bob as Gerard stalked into the kitchen, cursing under his breath as he went. Frank's mouth dropped open as he managed to hear some of what his best friend was saying. He flipped his middle finger at Gerard's retreating back before running up the stairs, Mikey then rolled his eyes at everyone before taking off after him. Bob and Ray shared a few worried glances before quietly sitting down on the sofa with Ryan.

Mikey nearly ran straight into Bill and Gabe who were coming _down_ the stairs, looking distinctly crumpled Ryan noted. He then wished to un-notice as Bill wiped the corner of his mouth and winked at him. As soon as the front door closed, it opened again to admit Pete who staggered in clutching his head as though he wanted to cut it off. His shirt was ripped at one shoulder and his tie looked like it had been dipped in chocolate. Ryan turned back and put his coffee down, eyeing is suspiciously. It was turning into an even more interesting morning. Gabe and Bill tried to sit in the same armchair at the same time, causing a brief struggle that ended with Bill tangled up round Gabe like a pretzel. Once they had stopped wriggling Spencer spoke up, he raised an eyebrow quizzically at the assembled group. There seemed to be an aura of treaty in the whole group. Everyone was tired and confused so feuds and personality clashes were hung up out of the way for the time being.

"Okay, explanation time. Who wants to go first?"

Gabe raised his hand immediately but Bill slapped it down, and glared. Pete sat down on the floor in front of their armchair and leant against the arm. Gabe's hands flew into Pete's hair and began massaging circles into his head. Pete sighed dramatically and closed his eyes.

"Bill choke on your dick again Saporta?" He mumbled. Bill threw his hands into the air in exasperation but smiled lazily at the back of Pete's head. Gabe laughed gently,

"He nearly dislocated his jaw actually." He moved his hand to Pete's shoulders and started to rub them soothingly. Pete moaned a little too sexually for Ryan's liking.

"Nearly? Clearly wasn't tryin' hard 'nough" Pete muttered. Bill slapped a hand to his face and shook his head,

"Just because you're the only person stupid enough to actually dislocate your jaw while sucking dick, that does not suddenly become a challenge!" He lifted one corner of his mouth, "Anyway, I was too busy trying to relay coherent information about Ryan's little escapade through non verbal communication to worry about my gag reflex." He raised an eyebrow at Ryan, who looked away.

"Seven vodka shots and a tequila." Gabe repeated, smirking at Spencer. Spencer shot him a look.

"Can we not?" Muttered Ray from where his head was resting in his hands, "I think I poured enough vodka last night to float Alex's ego on." Bob nodded and cleared his throat,

"And we haven't exactly had the best morning. Bert showed up at the waffle house." He grimaced, "It wasn't pretty. I'm guessing you saw Gerard with him last night?"

Spencer winced and Bill and Pete exchanged glances.

"Yeah, I saw them." Bill said, through gritted teeth. Ryan was so out of the loop with the whole Bert thing, it was starting to get annoying. However, it was clearly a personal matter. He was surprised to note that it seemed to be a year wide topic though, even Pete looked concerned.

"Were they?..." Spencer asked, tentatively. Ray's head bobbed up and down. There was a unanimous sigh from the group. "Guessing Frank called him out on it again?." More nodding from Ray.

"Frank went a bit far this time though, made it personal." Grumbled Bob, sounding perpetually tired, "I suppose we should...?" He poked Ray and pointed to the stairs. Ray looked up and nodded. They both stood up stiffly and headed for the stairs. Ryan thought it was odd that neither of them stopped to talk to Gerard in the kitchen, but then, what did he know?

"What about you Ry? Spoken to Bren?" Pete spoke with his eyes closed again. Ryan was about to retort that it was none of his business when Spencer cut across him.

"Yeah, we have. Ryan doesn't remember anything and Brendon's acting suspicious and Ryan woke up naked and wrapped in one of Alex's towels."

At this Pete opened his eyes and sat up straighter, even Bill looked lazily interested. Pete cocked an eyebrow.

"Been there bro, never a good one. You think you and Brendon might have...?" He wiggled his eyebrows, his tone of voice amused but not serious. Ryan swallowed. He'd forgotten about that possibility. He thought about it carefully, taking Pete's question seriously.

Spencer scoffed, "Ryan is straight you dick. Like, actually straight. If anything happened, Ryan didn't mean it to." He looked at Ryan for confirmation, Ryan nodded. It was true. Pete shrugged, nonplussed.

"I'll ask Bren- subtly," he added, when Ryan looked alarmed, "but I reckon he probably dragged you into Jalex's en suite, hosed you down and chucked you into bed. I wouldn't read too much into it."

Ryan and Spencer exchanged a look that Pete caught instantly.

"look, I see where you're coming from," Pete reasoned, brushing his fringe back, "But Spence, you of all people should know what Brendon's like with people now. He won't even touch me anymore, he shoved Bill off the other day and that takes some doing."

Bill shrugged and flipped his hair, Gabe nodded.

Ryan didn't miss the comment about 'Spencer of all people' and filed that away for future analysis, but never the less he relaxed. It appeared that the popular opinion was that Brendon was still a monk and therefore his virtue was intact. That still didn't explain his sudden unconsciousness though. His head was spinning with the different stories and ideas that kept leaping out at him and frankly, He had had enough. He had a microphone recording to listen to that might clear things up.

"I'm going to go for a walk." He announced, standing up. Pete pouted,

"You haven't heard about my exciting night of debauchery!" Ryan looked at his chocolate dipped red tie and decided he really didn't want to stick around. Luckily Spencer intervened.

"Sure Ry, go for a walk to clear your head. You must have God's own hangover." Ryan smiled, gratefully. But then froze, he didn't have a hangover. At all. He should do, he passed out from drinking too much didn't he? But he felt like he'd just woken up from a good ten hours of sleep.

"Curiouser and fucking curiouser." He muttered as he walked to the door, hearing Pete launch into an account of what sounded like a minor orgy. He started to trudge down gravel path towards the main school and his batcave when he registered a second pair of feet behind him, a slight echo to his own footsteps. Ryan frowned but kept walking, when he reached one of the solid stone benched lining the pathway he stopped and sat down letting the ridiculous and slightly frightening situation wash over him. Bill sat down beside him.

"Hey." Bill whispered, winding one of his long arms around Ryan's back. Ryan looked up and frowned. Bill was one of the student's he'd never been properly introduced to.

"Hi." He replied, just as quietly. Bill, in a surprising show of strength, tugged Ryan into a sideways hug.

"I know what Pete said, about Brendon not being capable of rape or whatever but I know how you feel right now and having no idea what happened especially in a new place with new people who keep going on about how they want you to be gay-" he paused for breath.

"I know how you feel and if anything did happen I will personally put LSD in all of Brendon's food and smash up his baby grand. No one should have to go through something like that alone. If nothing happened then that's fine, but if it did then I've got your back." He looked at Ryan and there was a definite sadness in his eyes that Ryan didn't dare to try and place. There was a confession in there somewhere, Bill had let something out and shared with Ryan, a student he'd only really just met. Ryan sagged into Bill's side. For a tall, bony kid; Bill was good to cuddle.

"I might be gay; I've never even kissed a guy. I feel like a bit of me is lying when I say I'm not because I have nothing to go by." Ryan whispered, sharing one of his own smaller thoughts.

Bill smiled softly and lifted a hand to Ryan's cheek, brushing it gently with his long fingers. He leant down, cupping Ryan's face gently and kissed him lightly for the briefest of moments.

"Still straight?" He breathed, searching Ryan's face. When Ryan nodded, he smiled. "There you go then; you have something to base your statement on." He nudged Ryan upright and stood up himself.

"If you ever change your mind, you know where I am. I'm practically a girl anyway." He tilted his head, "See you around Ryan." Ryan continued to stare into the middle distance until long after William Beckett had drifted away. He then pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled Helena.

"My darling son! How nice to hear from you!" Helena picked up almost instantly and her shrill voice brought Ryan back to life. Instead of forming anything close to words Ryan let out a noise like a dying whale. It was all too much.

"Are you going to tell me what happened last night?" Helena's voice took on an icy tone and Ryan winced, he'd forgotten about their non conversation from earlier that day. He sighed and decided the truth was better than nothing.

"I might have been compromised, I don't remember any of last night so I have no idea what I might have said, there was a party that I remember about half of. I don't know if I can do this 'Lena. This place is saturated in drama and feelings; it's not like a one off job. I'm forming actual relationships." Ryan thought of Bill's kind words and Spencer back in the common room, he bit his lip. At the other end of the phone Helena went very quiet. After a long period of silence she spoke,

"I can't help you with the first part but you had better get it cleared up ASAP so we can pull you out if we need to." She inhaled, "However, let's assume last night's you is not a complete idiot and you're still undercover and haven't been gang raped," Ryan winced, "You will inevitably take away feelings from this job Ry, I did from my first deep cover. I mean, hell- I still use my cover name."

"Wait, you do?" Ryan frowned. Today was wreaking havoc with his world view.

"Sure, my real name is Hayley. Did I never mention it?"

"So it's Hayley, not Helena?" Ryan frowned into the phone.

"Yeah, Hayley Williams." She sniffed, "You have mics set up right?" Ryan told her where he had placed them and she hummed appreciatively, "Go and check their recordings and see what you can get from them about last night. I'll try and calm Farro down and convince him you were just tired earlier." She paused, "Love you, Ry. It'll be fine."

Ryan pressed the end call button and slid the phone back into his pocket. A week ago her voice would have been enough to soothe any anxiety he had, but now- sitting on a stone bench in the middle of nowhere, Ryan felt utterly helpless.

Even more so when he realised he had spotted one of Brendon's hoodies draped over the lampshade in their dorm. If that had been there the night before, the thick material could have stopped any voices reaching the mic. Ryan buried his face in his hands and wasn't at all surprised when it started to rain.

* * *

><p>Excuse typos, it's been a long night, it's a little sad this one.<p>

Blowjob dislocated jaw story is dedicated to a friend of mine who that actually happened to (don't laugh)

7,056 views to this story, thank you to every single person. It's crazy! If anyone gets fed up of waiting for chapters and wants to know the whole complex plot, I have it typed up for people who want to know what happens. This chapter felt a little slow, but the pace should pick up in the next chapter which glosses over time and brings us up to October break at StMs.

I hope I'll have time to update over summer and after exams, if you guys are still reading and reviewing it'll always be worth it!

Kat x


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